Parasitism
by the morrighan
Summary: Things left in the dark tend to fester and to grow.
1. Chapter 1

Parasitism

Blue.

The color was a bright, glowing shade against the darkness of the night. Numbers reflecting the time. Two o'clock in the morning. Vivid numbers standing out in the blackness of her room. A minute later a zero was replaced by a one. Moira O'Meara sighed, sat. Unable to sleep. She stared round her room, debating. Smiled at her own weakness, her own need. She sighed again, slipped out of the tangled covers, deciding to succumb to it.

She pulled on a fuzzy lavender robe and slippers. Combed her hair with her fingers and made her way out of her room. Down the two hallways. The city was silent. Atlantis was at rest. Lights played along the floor, dim pools of amber to guide her along the way to her destination.

Reaching it she knocked. Bit her lower lip a moment, uncertain. Knocked again. "John? John, it's Moira," she needlessly identified. Waited.

She waved her palm over the panel. To her surprise the door opened. She entered his room, stood in the engulfing darkness, closing the door behind her. She slowly neared the bed. Smiled. John Sheppard was on his side, asleep. Blankets shoved down to his waist. His dark t-shirt melted into the darkness of the room, of the night. It had ridden up a little and Moira got a glimpse of his bare flesh before his striped pajama pants took over and covered the rest.

"John?" She removed her robe. Her slippers. Slid in under the blankets next to him. Gently nudged him. "John?" She shook his shoulder.

"Huh?" he muttered, rolling onto his back. He opened his eyes, instantly alert but relaxed, seeing her. "Moira? Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you okay? What time is it?" He glanced at the clock, back at her. Blinking the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

She caressed his shoulder. "Sorry, John. I...I couldn't sleep. I...I missed the feel of you next to me," she admitted. Smiled. "You're so warm, John."

"Hey, you're the one who said we needed to slow it down, remember? So we have. Until I can find the time to devote my full energies to you." He smiled.

She leaned close, kissed him. "I said slow it down, not stop it." But she sat back from him, uncertain again. "I...I'm sorry. I..." She slid out of the blankets. "Go back to sleep." She moved to the bathroom.

John sat, watching her. A slight limp marring her gait. The folds of her lavender nightshirt clinging to her curves. Her hair a messy fall down her back.

Moira filled a glass with water. Drank slowly. Staring at the sink, as if unable to meet her own reflection.

"Is it your foot?"

Startled by his voice, his abrupt nearness she dropped the glass. He deftly caught it, set it on the counter. "John! You...go back to sleep."

He pressed himself against her, arms around her now to take the glass. To fill it. He drank thirstily. Long swallows, tilting his head back. He licked his lips, set the glass aside once more.

"Foot?"

"No. My foot is fine. Sore, but that's all. I was thirsty. I should be resting it, actually, my foot, that is, so you go back to–"

"Sleep? No." His arms slid round her. He drew her against him. Kissed her throat, gently moving her hair out of the way. "Moira, are you going to tell me now?"

"Tell you what, John?" she asked. Staring at the empty glass. "I told you, I couldn't sleep."

"Yes, but what is bothering you, sweetheart? Besides missing me in your bed," he added with a quick smirk. But sobered. His hand slid down to gently caress between her legs. "Is it the sex?"

"No, John. Of course you'd go to that. Don't tell me you can get it up right now."

He gently laughed. "Maybe. I'm serious, Moira. Is it the–"

"So am I, John. No wonder you're the sex guy," she teased. "You are the–"

He abruptly turned her to him. Kissed her. A deep, voluptuous kiss that made her murmur, nearly swallowing her tongue or his, she couldn't tell which. He pulled up her nightshirt, grabbed her rear and lifted her. Set her on the counter.

The cold made her squirm. She grabbed his arms for support. "John?"

"Is that all I am to you, Moira? The sex guy?"

"Huh? What–"

"Is it? Just the guy who can bring you to frequent, shattering climaxes?"

"Yes! I mean, no! You are so much more than that, John! You know that! You–"

"Are you shocked that I'd even care?"

"Yes! I mean no! John, what the hell is wrong with you? You know I love you!" she declared, staring at him. Bewildered.

He relaxed, unaware of the tension he had been holding in his body, in his voice. "I know, honey. Sorry." He kissed her, stepping closer. Parting her thighs with a gentle touch. "I just...you are upset and won't tell me why. And we have slowed it down, just like you wanted, but shit, Moira, there's slow and there's this, which is nothing."

She caressed his shoulders. "I know, John, but you've been so busy running the city while Elizabeth is gone, and I've had so much work to catch up on in the lab...well...look, its nothing to do with you, John."

"With Lorne, then?" he asked, hands sliding to caress her sides. "But that can't be because he went with Elizabeth along with a team of marines."

She kissed him. Stroked his thigh with her feet. "Can I get down now?" At his smirk she smiled. "I meant off the counter, flyboy. Keep it in your pants, Sheppard."

He sighed. "I have been, O'Meara, and it's not happy, I can tell you that."

"Hilarious, John." She lightly pushed. "Move. The counter is cold."

He laughed. "Aww...poor baby's pert little ass is cold? Well, we can't have that, now can we? I can warm it up real good. Nothing's worse than a cold ass."

She laughed. "Too true, sweetie. Now move!" She shoved him again. "Can we go back to bed? To sleep."

"Sleep?" he teased. "I guess. Maybe. Since you won't talk to me."

"I thought you preferred it when I didn't talk."

"Yeah, usually, but this–"

"Hilarious, John!" She hit his chest. "Will you move?"

"Only for a kiss."

She smiled, leaned close and kissed him. "There, all right?"

"No. Wrap." She wrapped her legs around him, grabbing onto him as he lifted her off the counter. Carried her to the bed. She laughed as he dumped her onto it. As she slid into the blankets he followed her. Moved over her and kissed her repeatedly until he rolled onto his side. Pulled her close. "Now sleep, Moira. You need to sleep. I need to sleep. Unless you want to–"

"Talk? No. I'm done talking, John. I'm done with all that melodrama and stuff, okay? I just want to be with you. Only you." She snuggled, closed her eyes.

"Okay. I was going to say sex, but okay. Are you sure you don't want to have–"

"Sex? Go to sleep, John, please."

"Ah. It is the sex, then." He waited, but she was silent. He caressed her back, staring tiredly at the darkness. Mulling her words, the unspoken sentiments. The emotions hidden beneath their teasing. Enjoying the feel of her in his arms, in his bed. Having missed it too. He closed his eyes, felt himself drifting back to sleep.

"John," she said suddenly, interrupting his almost slumber, "maybe, maybe we have slowed it down too much. I mean we needed to slow it down. The sex, I mean. Well, not the sex. The frequency. No. Maybe the intensity. If that is even possible." She shifted against him. She stroked his chest, wishing he wasn't wearing a t-shirt. "John..." She sat, feeling tears. "I'm sorry! The intensity, not just the sex, that's intense enough but the rest of it. I'm sorry. I can't seem to dial it down. The intensity for you. When I'm near you, hell, even when I'm not near you! I want you, John. But I need to stop this, don't I? I need to dial it down! The intensity. I can do that, so people, so people won't notice when I'm..." She felt a blush warming her cheeks. "I mean when I stare or remember or desire...or feel that delicious desire, that rush of passion and love and I can't take my eyes off of you, all I want to do is to find you, taste you, feel you, feel your..." She stopped, caught in her rush of words, admissions. "I'm sorry."

John was staring at her, at the serious expression on her face. Her loose hair swirling around her, dark against the pale lavender nightshirt. He shifted, aroused by her soft voice, her words. Her words an intoxicant to him. "Moira, it's too late for that, so why even bother? I'm not going to even try to deny my feelings for you anymore. How I watch your every move, listen to your every word, every sound. Study every motion. How I want you all to myself. How I want this escalating attraction, this wonderful passion leading to the most intense sex we've both ever had to keep going. Over and over. And over. We've slowed it down. The sex, I mean. But not the intensity. Not the frequency. Not now. We have a few days together now. No interruptions, no interference, Moira. And I'm planning something special so...no."

She met his gaze. "What? Something special?"

He sat, ran his fingers through her hair. Kissed her. "Yes. Is this why you are upset? Over the intensity? Truth be told it's rattled me too. The emotional stuff, not the sex, I mean. Well, yeah, maybe the sexual bliss but I absolutely adore it. Don't you?"

"Yes. I...oh shit." She looked away, embarrassed. He turned her face to his, kissing her. "It's just, just the, the–"

"Let me guess. The interruptions? The interference?" he asked, gently stroking her rosy cheek. He ran his thumb over her lips. "I know, baby, but fuck it. They'll just have to get over it. They'll just need to get used to the fact that we are lovers. Very, very exuberant lovers."

She smiled at his seriousness, but frowned. "Too exuberant, sweetie. We have to be, um, quieter. Less–"

"No. More. Only more, Moira." He kissed her, guided her onto her back. Moved over her, onto her. Pulling the nightshirt up out of the way. Shifting on her to do so.

Her hand ran up his arm. "John?"

"Your words, Moira. How can I not want you when you tell me all of that? I want you all of the damn time." His hand slid between them to undo his pants, to wiggle out of them. He smiled. "Ah, baby, no panties...sweet."

"John!" She squirmed under him, yielding despite herself. "See? The intensity! Oh John," she whispered as he kissed down her throat. Hands roaming. Body pressing, pressing.

"I want you every day, Moira," he reiterated, shifting to free himself. Her legs parting to welcome him, to take him. "It's all I can do not to pull you out of that damn lab and find a place, any place to take you, to bring you, to hear you come with my name on your lips, your body beneath mine, your sweet, sweet center just aching to be filled."

"Oh John, John," she murmured as he kissed her repeatedly. Ran his hand gently up her thigh to caress, to tease. To test her readiness. "I can't stop thinking about it, about you, about this," she confessed breathlessly. She moaned as he slowly, slowly entered her. A careful rhythm.

He groaned, sighed happily. "Oh Moira, I know. I can't either. Half the time I've got a hard-on just waiting to get you in my bed, in your bed, hell, not even a bed," he informed her. Moved a little faster, harder. "Ah baby, you feel so good, so good..."

She kissed him. "Ah, sweetie, that feels so good, so good," she purred at his gentle, erotic lovemaking. "How can we resume our normal duties? Acting like we don't want this–"

"Every day?" he finished for her. "Hell if I know. But we don't have to worry about that yet."

Words ended as they drowned in the tides of passion, of friction. Pleasure rushing, flowing from one to the other and back again. Sounds mingling as their bodies did. Soft sighs and moans, ejaculations of names and exclamations as they rode the pleasure, crashed into climax after climax until the motions slowed, subsided almost lazily.

John smiled, resting on top of her. Tangled in the blankets. Entangled with her. The spent passion hovering on the air. On their bodies. He kissed her. "Give me a sec, baby. Please tell me that all the talking is done. I need to sleep. I'm going to be useless tomorrow, er, today."

She smiled, rolled with him as he slid to his side. She cuddled close, reveling in the echoes of pleasure, of intimacy. "No more talking, John. No post-coital talking, that's the rule. Go to sleep, honey. I don't think you'll be completely useless, colonel."

"Hmm..maybe not. Better not be," he muttered. "Now hush!"

"Yes, sir!" She waited as he closed his eyes, settling comfortably. "John?" She smiled at his groan of annoyance. "I've been thinking...are you sure we're not having too much–"

"No! Not having too much sex, now shut up and sleep," he admonished. Kissed her brow. "Please, Moira."

She kissed him. "As ordered, sweetie."

* * *

Moira rolled out of John's arms. Elbowed him as he snored. Loudly. "John! John!" She shook him. "John Sheppard!"

He muttered, rolled onto his back. "What?" he snapped.

She laughed at his tone. Kissed him. Sat. Shook him again. "John, wake up!

"Only for sex, Moira," he sleepily informed, rolling onto his stomach. "It's my day off."

She shook him again. "John! It's nine in the morning!"

"Sex?" he muttered, eyes opening.

"No. You need to move that–"

"Sleep." He closed his eyes.

She kissed him. "Fine, sweetie. But you need to get that fine, fine ass in gear." She swatted.

"Moira!" he complained, but didn't budge.

She laughed. "Fine, colonel. Enjoy your day off, colonel."

"Sex?" he asked again.

"Not now, sweetie. It's no longer torture John's cock day, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Damn. Hey, is it suck John's cock day?"

"Shut up, John!" He laughed as she pulled on her robe, her slippers and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Parasitism2

Moira sat in the cafeteria, eating her lunch and checking a data pad at the same time. She looked up from time to time, wondering where John had been all day. Had barely seen him as she had been busy in the biology lab all morning. She wryly wondered if he had managed to get out of bed. Smiled at the thought.

John stood in line, watching her. Her serious expression as she viewed the data pad. Her hair pulled back into the ubiquitous ponytail, all business. The flattering pale pink shirt and the khaki pants he so loved because of the way they hugged her rear. He watched her bite into her sandwich. A little mayonnaise spilled and her tongue flicked to catch it from the corner of her mouth.

"John? Were you going to move or just stand there all day?"

"Huh?" He looked over his shoulder to see Rodney impatiently waiting. "Yeah, I thought I'd stand here all day." He waited, smirked at Rodney's annoyance. Moved along, grabbing a sandwich from the varied selection.

"If you were wondering, and I'm sure you were there's no signal yet. I've got the wide-range sensors scanning, but it's a lost cause. There's no way we'll pick up anything."

"I know, just keep the sensors running." He exited the line, headed for Moira. He stood, watching her. Waiting. But she was engrossed in the screen now, typing. Frowning. Chewing on her lower lip a moment. John waited for that soft sound she made. Smiled hearing it. Cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"What?" she snapped, looking to see who was interrupting. "Oh. John." She stared. He had on a woven deep blue shirt, open at the neck. Tucked haphazardly into a pair of black jeans that seemed molded to his form. Distracted she finally raised her eyes up to his to see his merriment. Enjoyment. "Finally got out of bed, did you?"

"Yes." He sat across from her, set down his tray. "Do you mind?"

"Wow...polite too? Wow."

"Hilarious, Moira." He began to eat. Big bites of his sandwich.

She smiled. Closed the data pad and finished her meal. Gaze wandering over him as he ate. Chewed. Drank some soda. Licked his lips. His hair the usual disordered mess. A shadow of stubble on his jaw. Chest hairs peeking out from the open shirt.

John finished. Sat back, lounging in the chair. Shirt sliding up out of his pants on one side along his long, lean torso as he stretched his arms over his head. "So...Moira...do you know what today is?" he asked. Smiled.

She smiled, enjoying his flirtation. Whatever game he was initiating. "No, John. And now I'm afraid to ask."

He laughed. "You should be, sweetheart."

She sighed happily. "So...John...what day is it?"

"Wednesday, Moira. Hump day," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Hilarious, John." She made to stand. "I've got work to do so–"

"It's also give Moira a triple orgasm day," he noted offhandedly. "That is, if you're interested." He ran a hand carelessly through his hair.

Moira stared. Retook her seat. "What? A...how...how in the world would you even...oh, one right after the–"

"Other? No. I mean a triple. Three at once." He held up three fingers. Wiggled his brows at her. Smiled. "Or nearly so. You wouldn't believe the absolute precision and strategy involved. It's all in the positioning and selecting your twenty with the hardest, hardest ordnance."

She gulped at his low, husky tone. At the words. At the lazy posture of his body. At the serious, sensual gaze. "Damn, John...and you talk about my mouth."

He smiled slowly, gaze assessing. Warm. He played his fingers along the table. A tapping rhythm. "Not only my ordnance, Moira. It takes, let's see...it takes several skill sets. Dexterity. Location. Proximity." He licked his lips slowly, leaving the bottom one wet.

Moira's gaze was riveted. She shifted on the chair. Intrigued. Embarrassed. "Hilarious, John," she scolded, but her voice was soft, fraught with desire. "You're obviously teasing me. There's no such thing as a triple. From a physical standpoint alone it would be next to impossible."

"Maybe. For most men. Am I teasing you? Am I?" He tilted his head, green eyes sparkling. "Guess there's only one way to find out, honey. To be sure." He stood. A smooth, almost feline movement of his body. "You just let me know if you want to...assuage that particular craving, Moira. This offer is only good for today. You see," he leaned towards her, hands splayed on the table, voice lowering, "I need to work up to that particular level of, shall we say, expertise and military thrust. Penetration. Repeatedly." He straightened. Swaggered away from the table. "Eyes up, O"Meara," he called over his shoulder. Aware that every woman in the room was watching him, but only caring about one.

Moira smirked, shook her head. Flustered she stood, her body betraying her reactions, her interest. She slipped round the table but dropped her empty tray. Could feel John's hilarity as he glanced back at her. She glared at him, kneeling to lift the tray. She limped out of the cafeteria, pretending she didn't care, wasn't interested at all in his sensual proposal.

* * *

John stifled a yawn behind his hand, lounging back in the chair. The conference room was quiet. He tapped the keyboard, finishing another report. "There. Mission's all logged. Any word yet from..." he checked the screen, "M1P349? The one with the village elders?"

"No," Rodney smirked. "Zelenka's still there trying to explain what we're after. It may take a while." Laughter encircled the table. "Even with Teyla helping. Any word from Elizabeth?"

"Not yet," John noted. "She should be back in two days. Mainland?"

"Settlement two is doing well," Jason Reynolds reported. "Settlement three is still having trouble with the–"

"John, I have to ask you if you..." Moira's voice stopped. She froze in the open doorway. "Oh! Sorry! I'll come back."

John smiled. "What is it, Moira? Please," he gestured towards an empty chair.

"It can wait. Sorry to have interrupted you."

"Can it? Can it wait?" he teased. "We're done here. Go. Moira, stay. I want to hear this question."

Moira swore to herself, stood by the wall as the men filed out past her, giving her curious glances. She stepped into the room, closed the door. "Damn it, John, I can't–"

"Can't what? Wait? Then ask, Moira. Please, ask away." He lounged further back in the chair, smiling broadly. "Ah...let me guess. You need a spare?" His gaze narrowed onto her crotch.

"Shut up!" She sighed, moved to him. Sat on the table. "I shouldn't have barged in like that, but you've been in here for hours."

"I know. So...question?"

"Never mind. I'll just–" she was moving but he stopped her, hand on her thigh.

"No, baby. I want your question. I want your gushing exuberance, Moira. I can't think of anything else."

"All right. You're very good at this seductive teasing, John. I'm too distracted to work."

"Who's teasing? I was serious. I am always serious about sex, you know that. And about what today is. Question," he prompted.

She frowned. "I hate–"

"You, yes, baby I know. And you will but it will be worth it. As long as it stays between us this time," he reminded.

"Yes. I'm sorry, John, I just–"

He stood suddenly, kissed her deeply. Opening her lips to his, tongue teasing, darting. He drew back, hands on her thighs. "Question?" he repeated.

"Is there such a thing as a triple or are you just making it all up to tease me or to get laid?" she asked in a rush. As if his kiss had unlocked the words.

He smiled. Considered. "Yes." He stepped away to close the data screen.

"Yes? Yes what? Which?" She stood, touched his arm. "John?"

He met her gaze. "I answered your question, Moira."

She sighed. "Fine. God you can be annoying when you want to be!"

"That's an opinion, not another question."

"John! Yes to what?"

"First, are you saying that you want me to do it?" he retorted slyly.

She sighed. "Never mind! I don't have time for this, and if you were telling the truth, and I did agree to do it, I'd be too loud anyway," she complained. "Besides we agreed to slow it down!" She headed for the door. "Just forget it, John, we need to stop this, to slow this not to speed it up again to esoteric heights! I mean, my God, the double nearly killed me! I can't imagine what a triple would–"

He darted to her, held the door shut as he stood right behind her. "Be the most exquisite pleasure we can have at the same time, Moira. Please, let me enlighten you." His voice was a husky tickle in her ear. He touched her back. "I have arranged a place where no one will hear us, baby, so we can be as loud as we want. This won't be just sex, baby. It's practically an art form. I'm going to bring you so deliciously, so completely you won't know where you end and I begin. This will be the most intimate we can possibly be, and you will have to trust me, honey, because you will be reduced to a helpless pool of climaxes beneath me when it's over."

Moira nearly fell as she leaned against the door, body vividly reacting. She felt hot, tight, wet. "Oh John," she murmured. She turned to him. Kissed him.

He pulled her into him. Ran his mouth down her throat. "Is that a yes, Moira?"

She stared at him. "I...I don't know if you are just teasing me or not."

"I'm offering you a genuine experience," he corrected. Smiled. "Baby, maybe you're not ready. It's nothing we haven't done, just in a different way. A different position. Still..." he paused, caressing her rosy cheek, "I don't want to shock you into celibacy."

She frowned. "Hilarious, John! You are so full of–"

"Is that a no? Moira, I need an answer now."

She kissed him. "Sweetie, what does a, a triple entail, exactly?"

"I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy, actually, so I'd rather show you," he teased. "So?"

She smiled. "All right, sweetie. Just promise that it won't kill me."

He laughed. "Promise, baby. Let's go."

"Now? I.." But he opened the door, pulled her down the stairs. "John? Where...we don't need any, um, props, do we?"

He laughed. "No. Trust me." He led her to a transporter. Then another. Crisscrossing the city from one tower to another. Down a hallway. Then another flight of stairs.

"John, where are we going?" she asked, as her foot began to ache.

"Privacy, baby. Here." He led her into a room. "Ta da!"

She stared round. "Wow." She crossed the circular room, stepping over a pile of blankets. Stared out the window. "How high are we?" She stared down, down at the ocean waves. At the rest of the city spread out like a flower, extending across the roiling blue waters.

He moved next to her. "Really, really high. Observation tower on the northeast side of the city. Pier three. Now our little love nest, sweetheart, for our most exuberant sex."

She turned to him, but looked up to see lights dancing in the glass above them. "The windows! John, look!"

He smiled. "I know." He glanced up at the colors reflected in the sunlight as the rays hit the glass. Spilling rainbows upon them. Beams of filtered color, shades and hues of blue, of red, of green, of purple. He drew her to the blankets invitingly spilled on the floor. He kissed her. "Moira, give yourself to me. Completely." He kept kissing her, longer, longer kisses. Teasing and tantalizing. His hands caressed her, running round to her rear to squeeze, squeeze.

She squirmed. "John! Oh John, oh John," she whispered, hands running up his chest. Fingers popping open the shirt, button by button. To stroke his chest, to tangle in his chest hair. To slide down to his pants to undo his belt. "So...how do we...um..." She hesitated.

He smiled. "I'll lead. You follow, baby." He kissed her again, abruptly slid his hands under her shirt. Removed it, tugging it over her head as she lifted her arms. He smiled. "Ah...I was hoping it would be pink...the softest pink..." He eyed her bra. "And the panties?"

"Match, yes, sweetie." She kissed him, slid his shirt off him as he helped her. She unzipped his pants to feel his arousal pressing, pressing. "Oh John...sweetie, you are nearly ready for deployment now." She gasped as his hand slid between her legs, rubbing. Probing.

"So are you, baby, but not quite yet." He unzipped her pants, yanked them down. He smirked. "Pink panties...sweet." She stepped out of the pants, sat on the blankets. Removed her shoes.

"Socks too, baby," he reminded.

"No. My feet get cold," she remarked, watching him remove his pants. Eyed his plain blue boxers. He sat near her, pulling off his boots, his socks. She ran her hand up his bare back. "John...um, is this going to be, um..."

"Fantastic, baby. Trust me." He turned to her, smiled. Scooted close and kissed her. Fingers sliding deftly to pull down the straps of her bra. To unhook it. To remove it. Gently he pushed her onto her back. Followed. Kept kissing her down her throat, down to her breasts to swirl, to nibble until she arched, arched. His fingers played incessantly between her legs. Sliding on the panties still blocking him. She whimpered. "Nice and wet, baby. Now just relax and enjoy the delicious ride."

"John? You–"

He smiled at her. "We start here. Then we'll be moving. On top. Above. Then beneath me. All right?" he instructed.

"Sounds...complicated," she remarked, gasped as he yanked down her panties, ripped them off her leg. "John!"

He kissed her, yanking down his shorts, ripping them off impatiently. "I want you loud, baby. This is our private, perfect place. No interruptions." For emphasis he removed his earpiece, tossed it aside.

Before she could reply he kissed her. A searing, sensual kiss. Tongue probing, thrusting to make her murmur, squirm as his hands played along her breasts. Then down, down to push apart her thighs. He bent her knees, moved lower. Kissed along her inner thigh. Catching himself as her scent was intoxicating, luring him as surely as a bee to the nectar of a flower. "John! Oh John, you, you're going down on me?" she asked breathlessly.

"At first," he muttered. Ran his mouth along her skin, skimming the top of her mound. His unshaven jaw and cheek scraping her tender skin. Arousing her as she squirmed, squirmed. She grabbed, fingers tangled in his hair as he mouthed her teasingly, hands sliding along her thighs.

Moira squirmed, tensing, gasping. She arched, moaned repeatedly as he brought her closer, closer, tongue and lips a sensual whirl as he delved with delicate precision. He suddenly stopped and he breathed deeply. Curbing his own desire, his own passion as his erection throbbed, throbbed. Her fingers slid free as she fell back, unaware she had been lifting, lifting. He raised his head, gaze passionate, dark. A purely male gleam in his eyes. She trembled in desire, in need. "John?" Her voice a whisper, a tremor of sexual excitement.

He smiled. "Here comes the trust part, baby." He rolled onto his back. "You need to crawl over me."

"What?" She rolled, moved onto him. He pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, set it loose and wild around them. "Up. Don't touch me. Just move up, up. I'll guide you."

"Huh?" She kissed him. Kissing him as her need spiraled. Unfulfilled. "John?"

"Up. Now." Her body pressing to his was only making it more difficult for him to restrain himself. Especially feeling her so ready, so eager.

Moira moved to her hands and knees as he caressed her sides. She moved up over him. He stopped her, kissing down her throat. Then her breasts. Moved her further. She moaned as his mouth slid down her waist. Wet, sloppy kisses pausing at her scar. He moved her further, squeezing her rear to push, push. She gasped, suddenly realizing what he was intending. "John! John, no! No."

"Give yourself to me, Moira, please," he wooed. "I'll give you a triple climax, baby, I promise," he growled, groaning as his erection was painful, hungry.

She gulped, flushed. Feeling his hot breath on her skin, so close and intimate. She moved a little and sighed in absolute surrender as his hands slid, guiding her to his waiting, willing mouth. Moira melted, squirmed, arched and cried out all at once as he teased. Tongued. Sucked. At the same time his fingers slid down her rear, under her, into her. Caressing, stroking the tender, tender opening, the slick folds.

Moira's fingers clenched, clenched. Body tightening, trembling. "John! Oh John! John, please, please oh God, oh God!" she murmured, pleaded. Nearly wept as the pleasure escalated wildy. Almost painfully throbbing, pulsing. She cried out his name in a rising, loud litany as the orgasm rushed, slammed into her. Over her. Through her.

Abruptly he caught her, flipped her onto her back and thrust, thrust hard and fast into her. Groaning loudly in sheer relief. Moira nearly screamed, arching, sobbing, losing her breath as the third orgasm slammed into her. As he rocked her wildy. Thrusting deep and hard, faster and faster. Grunting with every motion. Straining as his body demanded release, relief.

"Oh John! John, John, John!" she cried in ecstasy, writhing wildly beneath him. The blankets bunching up under her, lifting her. As if in offering to him. She whimpered, wrapping her legs around him. Clawing at his bare back. Breathless.

John groaned loudly, swearing. Finding her so tight, so wet. She was clenching on him, swallowing him as he thrust, thrust. Rock hard still. Shoving his full length into her. "Moira! Moira, that's it! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" he exulted, arching, straining with a violent shudder. A frenetic rocking of their locked bodies.

Moira cried out again as he kept moving, kept the momentum, the exuberant sex almost making her scream. She rocked, squirmed. Clung to him. She tried to catch her breath as he pumped, pumped. She relaxed slightly as the climax faded. Spiraled. Echoed fervently. But he was still moving, in and out. Suddenly his mouth captured hers, possessed hers. His hands pinning her to the floor as a sudden eruption of hard, quick thrusts propelled him to release.

John growled, grunted. Slowed and fell upon her as the last shudder hit him. The last spasm spewing out of him. He breathed deeply, falling upon her. Sweat drenched his body, drenched hers. His harsh breath hit her skin, her breasts, her neck as he shifted. Kissed her. Slipped out and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling. Saw the colored lights shifting. Falling down upon them. "Fuck," he whispered, as if amazed at himself. Voice raspy. "Moira. My Moira..." He licked his lips. "I didn't kill you, did I?" he teased. Turned his head to view her.

"No. John...almost. But no." Her voice was soft, breathless. Quivering with a silent sob. She stared at the lights above them, upon them.

John turned onto his side to stare at her naked body. It was doused in the myriad colors. Drenched in sweat. Trickles on her breasts, between them. Down her sides. Her hips. Her thighs and the center between them glistening, sparkling with their fluids. He softly moaned, gaze fixated. Felt a raw, sexual hunger but forced himself to look at her face. "Moira." He paused, voice a sensual growl. Swallowed. "Moira. I didn't–"

"Hurt me? No, John. Not at all." He braced himself, expecting anger, blame. Instead she rolled onto her side. Was suddenly on top of him, pushing him onto his back. "Oh John! John, you..my God...you..." she purred in awe, astonishment. Brown eyes wide. Face flushed. She kissed him. Showered kisses all over him.

He stroked her back, her hair. Returning her kisses. Relieved at her passion. "Baby, that was the John Sheppard triple special. Only for you, my Moira."

She smiled, caressing his hair, his jaw. "John, sweetie, that was...you...have you ever done that with your lots some–"

"Women? No." He kissed her. "Complete possession, Moira. Complete trust. Intimacy."

"Yes, John." She kissed him, snuggled on top of him. "We need a shower up here! We smell of sex and sweat and–"

"Beautiful, baby." He lazily stroked her. "Just a sec here. Just enjoy the afterglow."


	3. Chapter 3

Parasitism3

Moira sat, scrambling off John's hot, hard body. She looked round, expression full of love, of passion. Astonishment. She ran her fingers through her hair. Down her side. Briefly touched between her legs, eliciting a groan from John was avidly watching. Wanting. "Wow." She leaned across him, her breasts brushing his waist. Her hair falling to curtain her face in a wavy mass of brown strands. Tickling his bare chest. She sat back from him, pulled on her bra. Then her shirt.

"Damn, baby, don't get dressed on my account, please," he commented. "We're just going to have to shower anyway."

"Hilarious, John." She met his warm, sensual gaze. Swallowed. But her throat was dry. "I can't believe...I can't believe what you did with me. Oh John...I've never. You weren't kidding."

He smiled. Ran his hand up her naked thigh. "No, baby, I wasn't. You know how serious and sincere I am about sex. Even solicitous. Whether or not my cock is deep, deep inside you."

She smirked, smacked his hand. "Enough, sweetie." She looked around the floor. Eyed their scattered clothes.

"Don't even bother, Moira," he advised, guessing her intentions. "They're my trophy now. They are far too sodden to put back on, and I want them. So fucking sweet."

She made a disgusted face, noise, causing him to laugh. "Ick! Sweetie, between your kinky sexual desires and your bizarre fascination with my panties I don't understand you."

"What is there to understand?" He sat, snatched the panties before she could. "Hmm...ripped too. Even better."

"John!" He laughed. She grabbed his, waved them in front of him. "Here. You even ripped yours, flyboy." She dumped them into his lap. Suddenly kissed him. She leaned close, closer, hand sliding along his thigh, towards his hand clenching the panties. He guessed her intent, moved his hand back behind him as he returned the kiss. Prolonged it. Gently pushed her.

"No. Mine, baby." He grinned.

She hit his arm. "Fine. Pervert."

He laughed. "Your pervert, baby."

She shook her head, stood, turning away to pull on her pants.

"Damn, baby...that pert little ass is all mine. All mine!"

"Yes, sweetie. Speaking of that why don't you move your fine one, colonel? And put that lethal ordnance of yours in your pants, Sheppard."

He smiled. "Why don't you stop taking it out of my pants, O'Meara?" he rejoined. Finally moved to get dressed. Snatched his earpiece off the floor and slipped it on.

She sat, pulling on her shoes. Threw his shirt at him. Watched him lazily zip his pants, button them. Adjust the belt. Lean to grab socks, boots. He buttoned his shirt, ran a hand through his hair. "Where–"

"Pocket." He patted his pants, gave her a rakish grin. Raised his brows. Eyes sparkling. "Mine. I intend to stroke these lovely, drenched beauties all the rest of the day."

"John!" She laughed, shook her head. "You are so–"

"Yours, baby." He pulled her to her feet, kissing her. Arms enfolding her. "So...no melodrama? No blame? You don't hate me? Maybe I didn't do it right," he mused.

She smiled, kissed him. Hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders. "Oh you did it right, colonel. I can feel you. Every time I move I feel another tiny orgasm."

He smiled. "Really? Damn..." he slid his hand between her legs. "Ah, baby, so fucking sweet."

"Enough, sweetie!" She gathered her hair into a quick ponytail. "Let's get out of here, sweetie. We need to make ourselves presentable. Get back to work."

"Do we?" he pouted. But took her hand, led her. "Do you approve of our love nest, baby?"

"Yes, sweetie. I like the privacy and the lights."

"Me too. Hmm...how are we going to move a bed up here?"

"We're not, sweetie. I don't want anyone else knowing about this room."

"Yeah. I don't want our sex room to become public knowledge."

"Love nest, sweetie."

"Whatever." He guided her down the stairs, the hallways. To transporters until they reached a familiar hallway. "Hey, Moira, do you know what tomorrow is?" he teased.

She smiled. "Yes, John. It's lower the intensity day, sweetie."

He laughed. "No. I don't think that's it. I think–"

She kissed him, shoving him against the wall. "No. Now behave, colonel. I'll see you later. Get cleaned up, would you?" She strolled down the hall, turned back to him. "Oh, colonel. Thank you."

He grinned. "No. Thank you, doctor. Thank you!"

* * *

John looked at his watch again. Sighed. Stared at yet another completed report. Smirked when he considered how impressed Elizabeth would be with his efficiency. He drummed his fingers on the conference room table. Thoughts, memories straying again to Moira. The exuberant sex. Memories of her body above him, beneath him. The taste of her mouth, her skin, her lush sweet center. He recalled her naked body under the myriad colors rippling over them. The wild disarray of her hair. The sweat glinting on her skin. On her rosy nipples. The pungent odors of arousal, of sex. The ripe promise, the sweet wetness, heat he ached, ached to fill.

He moaned, shifted on the chair. Forcing his mind back to the reports. Away from the sensual images. But he licked his lips, recalling the passion, the surrender. The erotic cadence of her coming. The litany of his name from soft arousal to excitement. To loud, long breathless orgasms. All of her sounds getting him off, making him hard even now.

"Fuck," he quietly swore, shifted again. Glanced at his watch. Ran a hand down to dampen his own reactions. Checked his watch again. Debated. Shoved the last report aside, deciding.

* * *

Moira looked at the clock again. Sighed. She shifted on the stool in the biology lab. Smiled feeling the echoes of pleasure all over her. Blushed. Trying not to think of John. John, teasing, tormenting, seducing her resistance with kisses so passionate, so deep. His tongue playing deliciously on hers. Across her cheeks, down her throat. His tongue swirling on her breasts. Kissing, tasting, teasing her nipples into exquisite sensitivity, hardness. His mouth trailing on her skin, on her scar, on her thighs. She touched her warm cheek, recalling where else he had gone. The extraordinary sensations. His intimate knowledge.

He had been everywhere at once. Probing, teasing, taking every pleasure and giving it back to her. Finding every sensual spot and ruthlessly bringing her until she melted in a pool of absolute climaxes, one after the other. Entering her repeatedly, seemingly forever in a rush. So hard, so long, so fast. Exuberance taking them both. The purely male sounds issuing from his throat, the litany of swear words quaking as he came inside her.

"Fuck," she muttered, pulling back from the memories. The stubbly growth on his jaw so rough on her skin. His mussed hair. His intense, smouldering gaze. His lean, muscled body possessing hers. She bit her lip, shifting on the stool again. She focused on the microscope in front of her. Chiding herself as her emotions spilled over in a longing sigh. Her body thrumming with renewed desire.

* * *

John shoved the data pad across the table. Reclined back in the chair, ran his hands on his thighs. His body was tense. Every muscle poised towards sex, relief. His hard-on becoming a stiff demand, uncomfortable. He swore to himself, but smiled. Knew that Moira wouldn't refuse him. Imagined her kissing him, straddling him. Her mouth all over him and finally, finally going down on him. His thoughts weren't helping and he chided himself. He stood, adjusted his jeans. Adjusted them again. Scowled. Strode out of the room with stomping steps.

Moira replaced the slide with another, sighed. "There's some significant differences but otherwise I don't think we can rule out a subspecies quite yet."

"Except for the aquatic ones," Alan Gregory observed, his clipped British accent slicing the air.

"Yes, those. The genetic applications and adaptations are quite–"

"Doctor O'Meara," came John's voice from the doorway, "it's time. For your ordnance check."

Moira turned on her stool. Stared. Smirked at his lounging position, arms folded across his chest. Head tilted. Expression serious. Sexy. His discomfort obvious. "Colonel Sheppard?"

"Colonel Sheppard, must you insist on this now?" interrupted Alan. "Moira and I were just coalescing some important genetic data in regards to the–"

"Yes. I must insist," John replied, voice clipped. Curt. "Doctor O'Meara. If you would."

She sighed. "Sorry, Alan. Colonel Sheppard insists on more proficiency when it comes to ordnance. Although I'll never be as succinctly proficient as he is," she admitted, walking over to him slowly.

He met her gaze, amused. "Nearly so, doctor, nearly so. With lots and lots...and lots of practice. This way, please."

"Of course, colonel." She followed him. Strolled behind him. Amused at his rather awkward gait. "John, is this really necessary? Oh, I can see it is."

"Absolutely," he replied.

"That's right. You are always serious, sincere and solicitous about this. So what are we talking here? A nine millimeter? A P90?"

"A fucking bazooka, baby," he informed harshly. At her laugh he paused, turned to view her. "Move that pert little ass ahead of me!" He swatted her rear as he passed him.

"Ow! John, geez! It's been...what...three–"

"Four and a half hours and I can't stop thinking about you, me, the triple, the works, now move it, baby!"

She darted away from him, laughing. "Yes, colonel! My ordnance is fine, by the way. Finally." She paused at her door, turned to tease, "just a little tingle now and then. And a little damp because I can't stop thinking of you either."

He shifted, gaze narrowing in admonishment. "In."

"Hmm...maybe, sweetie." She laughed, entered the room. He followed on her heels, closed and locked the door. She quickly moved to the table near the bed. "First." She set the vase full of roses on the floor. Removed the books. A few knickknacks.

He laughed. "Good thinking, baby. This bed's gonna go through that wall this time."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, gasped as he grabbed her. Yanked her against him, hands sliding down to caress between her legs. Kisses running roughly down her neck. "Wow, John!" She shifted, shoved. "That is a fucking bazooka!"

"About to go off, baby, fully loaded," he agreed gruffly.

She turned. Kissed him. Kept kissing him. Pushed him back onto the bed. "Shoes."

He snarled, but sat to yank off his boots. He scooted up the bed, trying to relax. "Moira, please...no prolonged foreplay this time."

She smiled. Removed her shoes. Slid over him. Kissed him, squirming to make him groan. "Where is the fun in that, sweetie? Afraid you'll come in your pants?"

"Hilarious, Moira!" he scolded.

"Whoa, soldier, just maintain position," she warned, catching his hands before he could tear at her pants. She slipped off him to remove them. Slid out of her panties. Looked over her shoulder to see him staring. Raw hunger on his face. She laid next to him, kissed him.

He pulled her onto him, kissing her. Cupping her rear in his hands. All but shoving her onto his erection. "Now, Moira, now! I'm going to come all over your bed!"

"Ssh, sweetie." She ran her mouth across his jaw. Circled his ear and gently nibbled. Licked down his throat. Ran her nails lightly down his chest, his waist. Fingers tugging at the fabric. She unbuttoned, unzipped his jeans. Yanked them open. He groaned, moving. She tugged his shirt free of the jeans. Ran her mouth along his waist. Lower. Across him, up the now protruding length of him caught in his shorts.

"Ah fuck, fuck. Moira," he breathed. Clenched his hands on the blankets. "Fuck me, Moira, fuck me now!"

She slid up to catch his mouth again. Sat up to straddle him. Trapping his erection beneath her. "Ssh, sweetie!" she warned. "We're not in our love nest now." She took his hand. Kissed his fingers. Took one into her mouth to suck.

John jerked, groaned. Trying to thrust. "Moira! Oh God! Moira, you are killing me!"

"Ssh!" She drew his hand out of her mouth. Down her clothed breasts, along her hard nipples. Down to her opening where he could feel her wetness. She lifted, freed him and yanked open his shorts. Took him into her slowly.

John sighed, thrusting. "Ah fuck! Moira! Moira, fuck me! Fuck me with that sweetness!"

"John, keep your voice down!" she warned, gyrating on him. Moving up and down to take him, possess him. He caught her hips to guide her as she whimpered. She rode, rode the pleasure. Circling with every thrust. Every motion. "Oh John, oh John, John," she said in an exaggerated whimper, knowing it would make him more excited, more aroused.

"Ah baby, fuck me! Fuck me now, Moira! Fuck me hard. Hard enough to hurt!"

She freed him suddenly, slid up to cover his mouth with her hand. "Damn it, John! Keep it quiet, would you? Does the whole base have to know you're coming?"

He kissed her hand, moved it off his mouth. "I was coming, so please, Moira...fuck me." He grabbed her. Rolled so she was beneath him. "I have to go full throttle, baby, so hold onto me." He thrust into her, moaned. "Tighter! Tighter, baby! Yes! Yes! Hold it like that! So fucking sweet! So fucking sweet!"

"John! Shut up, would you?"she flared as his voice was loud, gruff. But she arched, widening her legs as he began to plunge in and out. The bed began to rock under them. "John! Oh John, John!" she softly strained, trying to keep her own voice down.

John had no such qualms, his need escalating. "Fuck! Fuck! Moira, tighter! Tighter, so tight, oh yes! So fucking wet...snug...all the way....that's it! That's it!" he exulted, thrusting deeply, plunging the length of him into her faster and faster. The friction wild, hot. The bed was rocking crazily, the springs creaking noisily. The headboard slamming into the wall in a rough staccato.

"John! Quiet!" She grabbed his face, yanked his mouth to hers to try to silence him. His grunts and groans stimulating but loud. So loud. She whimpered, moaned but he pulled free.

"Sorry! Can't! Can't...oh fuck here we go, baby, hold onto me now."

"What? You...ohhhhh–" She strained, tensed, swallowing the exhalation of a moan, a whimper as her pleasure centers exploded. Blossomed into climax as she writhed, squealed and nearly dislodged him. "John! John!" she cried, but forced her voice lower. "Oh John, John, John!" She flooded, pooled around him, under him, helpless now.

"Moira! Oh baby, fuck me hard!" he ordered happily. Thrusting in another prolonged escalation. He rode her pleasure, slammed into his at last. Shudders shook his body, violent shivers as the spasms erupted, erupted. Until the last thrust expended all of his energy, his need. He fell upon her. "Moira, Moira, oh baby....fuck me so fucking hard I came twice," he muttered, impressed.

"John, please, please be quiet and watch your mouth," she scolded weakly, more amused than upset by his exuberance, his pleasure. His profanity and ecstatic commentary. She caressed his back under the shirt. Kissed his brow, his cheek. "John? Are you all right, sweetie?"

"Fine. Now." He breathed deeply. "Fantastic, Moira. That was my triple, baby." He lifted, slid out of her. "Fuck. Give me five, no ten, no..."

"Hours now, colonel?"

He laughed. Kissed her. Shifted his weight partially off her but settled comfortably. Stroked her hair, kissing her. Soft, gentle kisses. Sated now, not as hungry, demanding as earlier. "Maybe days, actually," he amended. "Damn. I forgot. Forgot about the aftershocks from a triple." He lazily slid his hand under her shirt, her bra. Fingered a breast as he rested his head on her. She stroked his hair, his back with gentle fingers. "Moira? Are you angry? You are very quiet."

"I'm just happy, John. Exhausted. Just thinking."

"Oh oh," he muttered. Closed his eyes. "No post-coital. That's the rule, baby. God, I'm tired."

"I wonder why, flyboy," she laconically noted. "John, do you realize we've been having–"

"Not too much sex, but maybe, just maybe too intense? Just a little," he replied.

"A little? More than a little," she chastised, moving under him.

"Moira, wait. Please. Let's enjoy the moment. I've got to crash for at least an hour. Then we can go have dinner. All right?"

"Okay, John."

He sighed, lifted his head. "Do you really want to talk right now, sweetheart?"

She kissed him, relenting. "No. Sleep. One hour. Then dinner."

"Thank you, baby." He rested his head on her again. Lazily caressed her breast. "Do you want me to move?"

"No." She caressed his hair, shoulders, back. Sliding her hands under his shirt. Relaxing under him. His warmth. His solid weight. His love. His passion. Hers. She pondered the increasing intensity. The knowledge. The trust. The intimacy. She closed her eyes, feeling him relax on her. Hand resting on her breast. Breathing slower, even. Falling into sleep.

She wondered if anyone had overheard him. Or her. Dreaded if they had. She moved slightly, fingers still playing on his back under his shirt. Secure in his solid warmth. She let herself doze, finally succumbing to the elated exhaustion.


	4. Chapter 4

Parasitism4

"John? John?" Moira's voice floated in his ear. He shifted, feeling her body beneath his. Warm. Soft. Yielding. Sticky in places that made him smile, shift against her again.

"Strawberries, Moira," he muttered happily. Opened his eyes and lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Moira. My Moira," he said low. Gaze full of love, passion. "My Moira."

She smiled. Kissed him. "Yes, sweetie. It's been an hour."

"Already?" He glanced at his watch. "Damn. Did you sleep at all?"

"A little. I'm hungry, John. Let's eat."

"Hungry?" He pondered, as if he couldn't understand the concept. He kissed her. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you want, sweetheart. And I mean that."

"Good. Move!" She laughed as he rolled off her at last. She sat, scrambled into her panties before he could snatch them. Into her pants. Shoes. "I hope it's meatloaf and potatoes night." She limped to the dresser and ran a comb through her hair.

John smiled, watching her. He sat and fixed his shorts, his jeans. Pulled on socks and shoes. "For you, baby, it will be."

She debated, decided to leave her hair loose. Flung it behind her shoulders and turned. Limped to him as he stood. Took his hand. "John. I hope, I hope that nobody overheard you. Damn you were loud, John! The things you said!"

He shrugged. "Sorry, Moira. I couldn't help it. You gave me so much...the absolutely sweetest, best–"

"Stop right there, sweetie. Let's go." She opened the door, coloring at his praise, his pleasure. Happy she had pleased him so much. She freed his hand and strolled beside him, trying to minimize her limping gait. "Stop looking at my ass, Sheppard," she teased.

He smiled. "I never tire of looking at your pert little ass, O'Meara. Or touching it, or squeezing it, or best of all, taking it against a–"

"Stop right there, sweetie!"

He stopped her in the cafeteria. A gentle pressure on her arm. "Get us a table, please. In the back. Over there," he pointed to a secluded section of the room near the windows. "I'll get the food."

She glanced at him. "Okay, John. Oh," she turned back to him, "make mine a Coke instead of a lemonade, please."

"What? No lemonade? You're hitting the hard stuff now?" he asked, in mock shock. "How about a beer in that case?"

She smiled. "No, thank you. A soda will do. And as for hitting the hard stuff...I think I already did that, colonel." At his snort of laughter she grinned, turned and limped to the table he had indicated.

John watched her, noted her limping gait. Her hair falling past her shoulders. Her rear snug in the khakis, hips swaying slightly. He tore his gaze from her to select the food she wanted. Emotions he normally squelched were flooding him, and he allowed himself a brief respite to feel them, to revel in them.

Moira sat at the table, waiting. She glanced out the window. The sun was a brilliant golden orb descending into the waters, turning them a deep violet. Waves gently lapped against the city's piers. A quiet, soothing sound. She looked at John as he made his selections. Smiled, wondering what he was planning. He had tucked in the blue woven shirt but it was slipping out of his jeans again as he leaned, reaching over to grab something. He strolled to her, set down the two trays. "Thank you. Is this–"

"Perfect, sweetheart, just perfect. Let's eat." He sat, took a long sip of his beer. "Are you sure you don't want a sip?" He offered her the bottle, brow raised in consternation.

She laughed. "Positive, John! Absolutely not!"

He laughed. "Good. More for me, then." They ate companionably, both hungry. Thirsty. The buzz of distant conversations scattered around the room as it slowly began to fill. "You know, Moira, I meant what I said."

She eyed him. He was watching her, a smile on his handsome face. "Okay, John. Good to know." She paused. "Um, what did you say, exactly?"

He smiled broadly, but became serious. "You can have whatever you want, Moira. Seriously. I want to give you everything, sweetheart. Everything. Just name it and it's yours."

She smiled, touched his hand on the table. "John, you're my everything." He smiled. "But...since you are offering," she teased, tilting her head. She withdrew her hand as he waited.

"I've been meaning to ask you."

"Ask away, honey. It's already yours," he assured warmly.

Moira frowned, curious at his expansive mood, emotions. He never used endearments in public and it threw her. "I...I would like to go back to Pleistocene Park. The planet?" she prompted. "I know," she began before he could object, "it could be dangerous with the sub-Wraith but now that we know of them we can be better prepared. And we can take a Jumper this time. And by we I mean us. I would like to go with you, John. Just you. I've been wanting to go back there ever since we left, I mean, for me that planet is like paradise. And if you're with me there...look, I know you might get bored and all by the science but still we could–"

"Done." He sipped some beer, pleased at her use of his name for the planet, not Evan's. Pleased at her question, suggestion.

"What? Just like that?" She snapped her fingers. Dubious.

"Yes. That's one of the perks of dating the military commander of Atlantis, Moira. One of many. Whatever you want."

"Just like that?" she repeated, skeptical. Pondering his use of the word dating.

"Yes. I don't know, though, Moira. Prehistoric megafauna and me? It might be too exciting for you," he teased.

"Hilarious, John. And true." They shared a quiet laugh. "How would you–"

"Don't you worry about that, sweetheart. I'll just slip it into the mission roster. But it won't be until a few weeks. Barring any other interruptions or disasters or calamities. Is that all right?"

"Uh, yes. Of course, John. Are you serious?"

"Yes, Moira. And I won't be bored. Nothing else?"

"What? Oh, that's right...you are well-off, aren't you?" she teased. "Damn, I should have asked for something exotic and rare, like a tsavorite pendant."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. A tsavorite?"

"No, John! I was teasing! What is with you anyway?"

"Dessert? Stay here." He stood, took their empty trays.

Moira stared after him, worried at his demeanor. Intrigued by his obvious affection. She looked round suddenly. Saw the women watching him as he moved with a graceful efficiency. He glanced back at her, smiled slowly, as if she was the only woman in the room. A soft sigh escaped her lips, melting under that brilliant green gaze full of love, happiness. Startled by seeing it displayed nakedly.

John returned, set down a long bowl. Took his seat. "What?" Her gaze was both admiring and worried. Caught between a dreamy passion and an anxious hesitation.

"Ice cream?" she identified, eying the treat. "A banana split. Cute. Very cute. What are you going to have?"

"Hilarious, Moira. I thought we could share. Two spoons. You tackle the banana. Slowly. I'll take the cherry." He plucked it off the ice cream. Held it up to his lips. His tongue flicked out to caress the side of the ripe, red fruit. Before he popped it into his mouth. Swirled it. Chewed and plucked the stem off with a quick tug.

"Fuck," Moira muttered, gaze riveted. Making him smirk as he chewed, swallowed. Eyes sparkling when she managed to tear her stare from his mouth to meet them. She spooned a piece of banana, ate it. "Whipped cream? Didn't you say that was too cliche?"

"In certain situations, yes," he agreed.

"Not on ice cream?"

"No." He spooned some ice cream, ate.

She swirled the spoon. "You know, John, you, um...how do I put this? You might want to, um, dial it down," she softly suggested. Glanced almost shyly at him.

"Dial what down?" he asked. "This? I thought you liked this romantic crap, er, stuff."

She relaxed now he sounded more like himself. "Yes, I do. No, not this. I mean...you, um, need to dial down your, um, shit, I know I'm going to regret this, but you need to dial down your...um...oh crap," she sighed, making him smile in amusement. "It's not funny, John! Look, it's even more intense somehow, that radiance, the gorgeous...you exude this...it's emanating from you like a..." Her voice spluttered as she couldn't find the words.

He laughed. "You are so beautiful when you are flustered, honey."

"John?" Worry resumed. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing! Eat your ice ream before it melts," he advised, spooning another glob for himself.

She set the spoon down. "John, are you...are you going to break up with me?"

"What? No!" he protested, seeing she was serious, not teasing. "Why on Earth would you even think that, sweetheart?"

Before she could reply Rodney joined them. "I didn't miss dessert, did I? Thank goodness!" He sat next to John. "And before you ask, no. Nothing yet on the scans. I have intensified the radius and implemented some further diagnostics but as I told you it is a long shot and if we do pick up any kind of signal it doesn't necessarily mean that we have what?" he finished as John's glare hit him. "What? Oh no...don't tell me...gooey eyes again?"

Moira smiled. "No, of course not, Rodney."

"Yes, and it's going to get even gooier so leave," John corrected. He met Moira's startled gaze. Smiled. "Now, what we were discussing?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, stood. He moved to another table, muttering to himself.

Moira watched him go, met John's gaze. "John? Are you feeling all right? Has all the, the exuberant sex," she whispered, "addled your brain? You are never like this in public. Are you breaking up with me?"

He caught her hand on the table. Caressed her fingers. Entwined his with hers. "Moira, Moira, after all this you think I could ever let you go, much less contain how very much I–"

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Moira watched in fascination as he changed. Turning in his seat to view the interruption he changed instantly from the lover to the colonel. His expression of loving warmth switching to cold, cold ire. She tried to pull free from his grasp but he kept her hand in his.

"Yes?" he asked. Voice stern.

The marine gulped. Visibly distressed his gaze darted to Moira, back to John. "Sir! Edwards and his team have just returned from M1Q436. What are your orders, sir?"

"Have them debrief in thirty. I'm on my way."

"Yes, sir!" The marine saluted, eyed Moira again, then departed hastily.

John looked at Moira. Sighed. "Sorry, Moira. Duty calls. Will you wait for me here?"

"I...all right, I guess," she said, thrown as much as the marine had been.

"Don't eat all of the ice cream," he admonished, finally freeing her hand as he stood.

"I can't promise that, John. It's already melting."

"Hmm...then I'd better hurry. I'll be back ASAP, sweetheart."

Moira nodded. Watched him leave. His quick strides taking him across the room. Long legs carrying him swiftly out of it. Puzzled, charmed, enamored she could only shake her head. Began to eat the ice cream.

"You look deep in thought, love. May I?"

She smiled. "Of course, Carson, please." She waited until he had taken John's seat. "I was just thinking...John...John's acting kind of...weird. Well, not weird but just not like himself. More, um, more..."

"Affectionate? Emotional?" Carson supplied with a smile.

"Yes! That's it, exactly! Not that he isn't affectionate or, or emotional when we are alone, but in public he is usually self-contained."

"Hmm...why does that bother you, Moira? It's about time he more openly displayed his affection for you."

"I...why? I mean, I know discretion is all but lost now...but he's so...so..." Words failed her and she stared at the melting ice cream. Ate some more.

Carson laughed. "Maybe he has finally realized how to treat the woman he loves, is all. That you are not going anywhere, and neither is he. Enjoy it, Moira. He obviously is."

* * *

John sat back in the chair, nearly tipping it but catching himself. He rubbed his eyes. He had taken the reports. Asked the pertinent questions. Dismissed the weary team. Considered what they had found, or rather hadn't found. He stood to leave when Rodney entered.

"Oh? Finally managed to tear yourself away from Moira for an hour?"

"Half an hour, actually," John corrected. "Did you want something?"

"Yes. I've located a signal. No," the scientist held up a hand, "it's very faint and so far I haven't been able to zero in on an exact location. I'm fine tuning our equipment. Even so it won't be until tomorrow that I'll have some idea of a vague location. We'll need to go through the 'Gate and track it that way. I thought you'd be pleased," he noted seeing his friend's frown.

"I am. Good work, Rodney! We'll go tomorrow, with Ronon."

Rodney shook his head as they two men exited the room, descended the stairs. "Excuse me for succeeding then! I don't understand you, John! You are all over me to track this signal, to locate a tiny signal in the middle of a galaxy of all things, and then when I do you don't seem to care!"

"Of course I am pleased you did it, and we will follow up on it, believe me," John argued. "I've got other things on my mind, all right? Besides, until you can pinpoint the signal there's nothing we can do. We're not going to go 'Gate hopping on a useless mission."

"Other things?" Rodney scoffed. "Oh, let me guess. Would one of those other things be that cryptozoologist?"

"Paleozoologist," John automatically corrected, "and the fact that my ice cream is melting."

"Your what? Oh, I get it. Ice cream."

"No, you don't. By ice cream I meant ice cream. What did you think I meant?" John asked. A sudden terse edge to his voice.

"You tell me." Rodney strolled with his friend across the control room to the hallway. "You really seem to like this zoologist."

"Yes. Any other questions that I won't answer?"

"No, no, I just...hmm..."

"Hmm? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John snapped. The two men stood in the hallway, facing each other.

"Nothing. Just hmm. You've been with her a while now, haven't you? That's all."

"If you have something to say just say it," John warned.

"Fine! You just seemed pre-occupied, is all. I am pleased for you, John." Rodney headed down the hallway, leaving his friend to stare after him.

* * *

Moira sighed. "Where the heck is he? It's been over half an hour." She sighed again, trying to evade Carson's inquiry but finally shrugged. "It just threw me, is all. The way he is acting. It made me think he was going to dump me."

Carson smiled. "Now Moira, he's never going to do that."

"Still...I didn't expect it, that's all."

"Expect what?" asked John as he joined them. Frowned. "You ate the whole thing?" He eyed the empty bowl.

"Sorry, John. It was melting. What took you so long?"

"I had an errand to run."

"I'd best be on my way–" Carson started to rise.

"No need, Carson. We're done. Aren't we, Moira?"

"Okay." She stood. "Do you want to get another–"

"No. Let's go."

She followed him out of the cafeteria. "John, is everything all right?"

"No. I mean yes, but no."

"Oh, well, that explains everything," she remarked. "Where?"

"Yours."

She scooted ahead of him, reached her door. Entered her room. "So are you going to tell me what the what the what the..." She stared. Another vase of roses, pinks and lavenders stood on the table near the window. Lush blossoms nearly overwhelming the vase, cascading down it's sides. The heady perfume wafted on the air. "Wow...Carson's quite the–"

"Carson?" he queried, closing the door.

She laughed, turned to him. "Oh! It was you? John Sheppard? The sex guy?" At his frown she hugged him, kissed him passionately. "Oh John! Oh John, they are beautiful!" She drew back. "So what's wrong?"

His arms encircled her. "Nothing. Except I have to leave tomorrow. We've got a possible lead on that tracking device. But I won't be gone long, I promise."

"On Ford?" She frowned. "John...you...you..."

He kissed her. A slow, seductive kiss. "I'll be careful, don't you worry, baby. Moira...my Moira. What are you in the mood for, sweetheart? Whatever you want you will have."

"I...I wish you didn't have to go. You must be careful, John!" She hugged him. "John, we, we've been very, very exuberant."

"Yes, Moira, we have been." He drew back to view her face. "Wait. Is that a complaint?"

She smiled. "No. An observation, sweetie." She kissed him. "Sweet and slow?"

He smiled. Kissed her, drew her gently to the bed. "I got you, baby. Sweet and slow. I want to make love to you, my Moira. Before I leave I want to make love to you," he wooed into her ear. Nibbled her earlobe to make her squirm. Licked behind it to make her whimper.

"Oh John! Yes, yes, sweetie, make love to me. Make love to me before you leave," she agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

Parasitism5

Moira woke. Reached. Found empty blankets. "John?" She sat, abruptly awake. "John?" She glanced at the clock, swore. Quickly she jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom to hastily clean up, to dress. She nearly ran to the Jumper bay, ignoring the pain in her foot. She skidded to a halt seeing John standing with Ronon and Rodney before they started to head into the ship.

She hastened to them. "John! Colonel Sheppard," she corrected with a blush, "may I have a quick word?"

All eyes fell on her. John smiled. "Of course, Doctor O'Meara." He walked towards her, balancing his P90 casually. "What is it, Moira?" He smirked at her messy attire, her messy ponytail. "Oh! Don't you worry, baby...if you run out of panties while I'm gone you can find some in my room." He winked.

She smiled. "Hilarious, John. Just, just be careful!"

"Of course, sweetheart. Anything else." John could feel the gazes on them. Ignored them.

She debated. "It's too bad you have to leave today, colonel. You do know what today is, don't you?" she asked, deciding to lighten the mood.

"No. Why don't you tell me, baby. What is today?"

She sighed, pouted prettily. "Today is suck John's cock so hard he'll beg for mercy day," she teased softly. "Oh well..."

John's eyes lit up with sensual revelry. "Fuck. Is it?" He half-turned. "Mission's scrubbed! Stand down!"

"John!" she objected, laughed as he turned back to her, grinned.

"What? I can't miss this day, baby, I just can't."'

"Oh well, sweetie, those are the burdens of command, I guess. And who knows when this day will come around again."

"Hmm...it better, baby. When I get back I will spank that pert little ass of yours for giving me a hard-on before a mission."

"John!" She hit his arm, blushed.

"Sheppard? Today?" Rodney called, rolling his eyes. Ronon grinned.

John shrugged. "Sorry, baby. Burden of command and all. Which you will alleviate once I return."

"Of course, sir, I am under your purview." She became serious. "Be careful, John." She touched his arm a moment, drew her hand away from him.

"I will, honey. Don't you worry. Take care of your foot." He kissed her. Not a quick, discreet kiss but a long, lingering one that both startled and aroused her. He drew back from her, smiled. Turned and headed for the ship. "Well? Let's go! Rodney, get that scanning equipment working! We need to move ASAP!"

Moira stared, stunned.

* * *

John exited the Jumper, boots stomping on the ramp as he rapidly descended. "Well?" he snapped, looking round. He lifted a pair of binoculars. Stared. "Huh."

"We're getting closer, all right?" Rodney snapped in reply. "Give me a sec to track it, all right! Oh, what's wrong, John? Missing your girlfriend already? It's only been two days!"

"Two days. Two planets," Ronon remarked, moving to scan the area. The area past the Stargate was a patchwork of trees and open fields. All tinted gold and green by the rising sunlight.

"It's not my fault!" Rodney grumbled, hunched over his scanner. "It's the equivalent of searching for a needle in a haystack! Which in this scenario the haystack is a galaxy!"

"Why would you look for a needle in a haystack?" Ronon asked, puzzled.

"Never mind! Here! Got something! Sheppard! Sheppard!" Rodney looked up to see John raising a camcorder to his eyes, filming something in the distance. "What is it? What are you doing? Taking pictures? Of what?"

"Wolves," Ronon noted, trying not to smirk. Failing.

"What?" Rodney barked a laugh. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me! You! Sheppard? What are you now, a wildlife documentary expert? Oh, I get it! Aww...you're filming animals for your girlfriend!" He laughed loudly.

John lowered the camcorder, stuffed it into his pocket. "They could be of scientific value," he postulated, abashed at having been caught.

"Bullshit! The only value they could have is to help you score!" Rodney laughed.

"McKay! Focus! Track the device now!" John ordered, glared. Glared at Ronon who was smiling broadly. "You! Why the hell aren't you on point?"

"You didn't say take point," Ronon excused.

"Well, take point!"

"Okay, okay, this way. I think it's here!" Rodney stated, leading the two men. "The signal is stronger...weak, but definitely not distorted like it was on the last planet!"

* * *

Moira was trapped in a blur. A fog. She tried to swim out of it, above the heavy lethargy. Trying to remember. She had been walking down the hallway. John had been gone for two days. She remembered walking down the hallway, then falling. A woman screamed, screamed. Except it had been her screaming. Screaming as a terrible, terrible pain laced her foot. Cramping it viciously. Pain like fire ripping muscles, as if something was clawing itself out.

Moira struggled, struggled past the drugs, the morphine. The sedatives and anaesthesia making her memories cloudy, indistinct. Except for the pain. Carson's voice floated into her mind. Telling her he had to operate. Cut it out. Cut it off. Off. She remembered shouting, screaming.

Her eyes flew open and she jerked upright. Fell back into the bed. The infirmary was a blur. "John! John!" she cried, but her voice was hoarse, weak. Hands caught her arms, eased her back onto the bed as she struggled.

"Easy, Moira, easy! It's all right, love," Carson soothed.

She blinked. Stared as Carson's kind face came into view. Concern, sympathy in his blue eyes. She relaxed, but looked down the bed to her feet. "You cut it off? You–"

"No, love. I cut it out. See?"

She moved, grimaced, moaned as pain let her know that her injured foot was indeed still attached to her. It was wrapped tightly in gauze and bandages. "Oh."

"John's still off-world, love. I didn't think it was necessary to send for him. But I can if you wish. Now that you are awake."

"No...no...I'm fine. I...aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

"Carson, what happened? The pain...God, the pain...like something was ripping my foot apart from the inside!" She shuddered.

"It nearly did, love. But you're fine now."

"What? What do you mean?"

Carson sighed, debated. "Moira...I had to operate. You've sustained a little tissue damage but your blood is clean. Now that it's removed you should heal quickly."

"It?" she asked worriedly, feeling a shiver. Wishing that John was with her. "Carson?"

"I don't know what it is, Moira. It's a...it's a growth, but not a tumor," he hastily assured. "A foreign object that must have been in your foot for months now, and only now has been triggered by...something...to activate...to...to...to gestate."

Moira gulped. "Activate? Like a nanite? No...you said, you said...gestate?"

"Yes. This is a living thing, Moira. And...it's still alive."

* * *

John held up his hand, halting them.

"What is it now? Oh, let me guess, some more animals you can film for your–"

"Shut up, Rodney!" John pointed. The three men had emerged into a clearing. A field full of waving green grasses. Short enough to reveal a small, mechanical device blinking on the ground. Emitting a faint pulse that Rodney had been following. "Bingo."

"That's it! Finally!" Rodney shut off his scanner. Waited. "Well? It's right there! Aren't you going to go get it so we can go home? We haven't seen a soul on this planet and it's clearly been deserted for some time! Obviously Ford's not here, nor are his men. Right? Right? I mean, look at it! It's been here for some time, exposed to the elements. No wonder the signal was so difficult to track, it's been compromised by the exposure!"

"Exactly."

"Huh?" Rodney looked around, suddenly nervous.

John nodded to Ronon. The Satedan instantly stalked into the shadows, circling their position. John took a step but Rodney's hand on his arm restrained him.

"Wait! You think this is a trap? Of course it's a trap! You can't just go barging in over there in the open! What are you thinking? You can't just stroll out there!"

"That's the plan. Stay here. And stop talking." John strolled into the field. Crossed the distance to the tracking device with nonchalant ease. P90 cradled in his arms as if he didn't have a care in the world. But his gaze darted everywhere. Every sense alert. Tense. "Ford!" he called. "Ford! I'm here! What are you waiting for?" He knelt, picked up the tracking device. Shut if off with a swipe of his thumb. He examined it. Looked up but didn't feel any hostile eyes on him. He heard a sound. A low murmuring that rose and fell, carried by the breeze that ruffled his hair.

"Sheppard," came Ronon's voice over the radio, "it's clear. But I hear a...a voice...weird..."

"Track it. We're on your six." John gestured. "McKay!"

Rodney jogged to him. "Well? Is it safe? Is it–"

"Listen!" John pocketed the device. "What is that? Does that sound like...like Czech to you?"

Rodney cocked his head, listening. "I don't hear any...wait. Wait. What is that? It does sound like Czech...Zelenka?"

"Has to be. Let's move!" John sprinted towards the trees, following the sound, Rodney on his heels.

"But how? He's not on this planet! He's on another planet!"

"Do you know another person in this galaxy who speaks Czech?" John retorted over his shoulder. Darted through the overgrowth of trees. "Ronon, copy?"

"Here, Sheppard."

John bludgeoned into another clearing, wondered at the obvious hilarity in Ronon's voice.

"What the–" He stopped dead in his tracks.

* * *

Moira stared in horror. "Alive? You mean...like a parasite? Living inside me? Feeding...oh my God..." She forced down the bile in her churning stomach.

"Moira, you're fine. There's no trace of it in you now, I promise!" Carson patted her shoulder. "You need to calm down."

"Calm down?"she exclaimed. "Calm down? There was a, a parasite growing in me!"

"Not exactly. It's unlike anything I have ever seen. And it's still alive...and, and growing."

"Growing? Like, like, like what? What?" Moira's eyes widened in horror.

"It has sub-Wraith DNA, Moira," Carson reluctantly told her. "Somehow when you attacked and your foot sliced open...this, this thing was inserted. Inert. Like an egg, I'm guessing...harmless until something triggered it."

"Triggered it to...to...but it's been months, Carson! It was in my foot to...to incubate? Incubate?" She clutched the blankets.

"Yes. Until some catalyst made it erupt from its sac. And, Moira, you're fine," he assured, seeing her panic.

"I think I'm going to be sick! Carson! They tried to drag me off into the woods, the sub-Wraith! If, if John had let go of me...oh my God! They would have inserted into my..."

"Easy, love, easy! John didn't let go, did he? He didn't, and it was only your foot." Carson patted her arm, trying to console, to soothe. He adjusted an IV, increased the dripping medication.

"If, if John had let go...had let of me...oh my God! Carson, that's how they, they breed! Like an insect where the larvae eats into the host from within...oh..." Her rising horror was submerged by a wave of lethargy. She fell back. Eyes closing. "Carson? You...you drugged..."

"You need to relax, Moira. You keep thrashing like that and your foot will pain you terribly and never heal! Calm down, love, it's over. It's over. It's out of you now."

"What triggered...what...let go... John didn't let go, let go...where's John? Where's John?" she asked in a small voice, slurring as the drugs fell like a blanket on her.

Carson sighed. Tapped his earpiece. "Sargent, the second Colonel Sheppard returns have him report to the infirmary. Immediately. And use that exact word." He stared down at Moira as she slipped into dreamless slumber. "And it better be damn soon."

* * *

Rodney blinked. Blinked again, as he couldn't believe his own eyes. Glanced at John who was likewise momentarily stunned. "I don't believe this!"

Tied to a large tree were Radek Zelenka and Teyla Emmagan. The ropes were sturdy, secure. So secure that Ronon was sawing at them with his big knife, grunting with the effort as the tough fibers stubbornly resisted the sharp blade.

"What happened? How the hell did you get here?" Rodney asked.

"Ford," John answered grimly, moving towards them as at last the ropes sprang free.

"Look at you!" Rodney laughed. "Look at you, Radek! Tied to a tree! There's nothing more embarrassing than that!"

"How about hanging upside down from one," Ronon noted.

"Not funny!" Rodney snapped, recalling his own unfortunate mishap.

"Are you two okay?" John asked, looking from one to the other.

"We've been tied to a tree for two days, colonel, so no, we are not fine! Not at all!" Radek fumed, rubbing his raw wrists as he was freed. "That pup of yours has run free of his leash! Attacks us without warning, without any provocation and just leaves us here!"

"We are unharmed," Teyla informed, slipping out of her bonds as they fell to the ground. She appeared more embarrassed than injured. "I am sorry. He caught us with our guard down. Stunned us and brought us here."

"Trussed us up like Thanksgiving turkeys and left! Left!" Radek was still fuming.

"He said you would find us. That was all." Teyla shook her head. "I do not understand him."

"It's a message. For me," John dourly noted. "That he can take my people whenever, wherever. It's like a game to him."

"A game? Well that's just great, isn't it?" Rodney fumed. "The only thing worse than a lunatic running free in this galaxy is a lunatic with a sense of humor!"

"He's not here now. Nor are his men," Ronon observed. Sheathing his knife at his side.

"No. And he won't be near here either. Like I said, a message. Let's go."

"Wait! You don't think he'd go after Elizabeth, do you?" Rodney worried.

John considered. "No. She's got a contingent of marines with her, and she is in a heavily populated area. Too many witnesses. All the same we will contact Lorne and give him the heads up. Let's go. I don't suppose you could track where he went."

"Oh, sure, I'll just upload all of the 'Gate addresses from that DHD and sort them one by one. You'll have your answer in a few months!" Rodney snapped, but paused. "Although...this planet is pretty desolate...and that DHD probably hasn't been used much..."

"So you can do it?" John asked, leading the group through the trees. "Seriously? Because I was just kidding. Sort of."

"Seriously? Yes, maybe. Sort of. I'll see what I can do. Of course where he went won't be where he is, right?"

"Right. But it's a start."


	6. Chapter 6

Parasitism6

John briskly strode into the control room. "Rodney, contact Lorne. And here," he lobbed the tracking device towards the scientist. Rodney caught it. "Disable that. I'm sure that Ford placed something on it, in it, so either disable it or destroy it."

"Where are you going? Oh, let me guess...to show your latest nature film to your zoologist girlfriend," Rodney teased.

"Nature film?" asked Teyla, puzzled.

"Yes, Mr. Nature here was filming wildlife for his girlfriend. It was very cute, really. He–"

"That's Colonel Nature, and that's enough, Rodney!" John snapped, embarrassed as Teyla smiled at him. Her amusement all too evident.

"I think it's sweet," Ronon noted, and they laughed.

John glowered. "Don't you have better things to do than to comment on my–"

"No, not really," Ronon jested.

"Ronon is correct, John. It is sweet, and thoughtful," Teyla commented.

"You should have seen the kiss he planted on her before we left," Rodney confided, but his voice was loud and carried all across the control room.

"Get that damn address!" John ordered.

"What? It's nice, John, to see you so thoughtful for once. For once thinking with your head and not your–"

"Colonel Sheppard!" interrupted a technician, cutting off Rodney's comment. "Doctor Beckett requests your presence in the infirmary. Immediately, he said."

John was scowling at Rodney, when he turned to the technician. "Immedia..." He knew. His heart skipped a beat. He sprinted out of the control room. Ran to the infirmary. He slowed, skidded to a walk seeing Moira. He neared slowly, staring. She was asleep. His gaze wandered down her body, the blankets to her bandaged foot. He gently touched her arm. Slid his fingers to her hand on the blankets.

"Don't wake her, John. She needs to rest."

He looked over as Carson neared. "Is she–"

"Fine now. There's no need to worry."

"What happened? Her foot?"

"Yes. Four days ago. I had to operate but she's fine now," Carson assured. But John's concern transformed into ire.

"Wait, back up. Four days ago? And I'm only hearing about this now? Why the hell..." he paused, lowering his voice, "why the hell wasn't I informed at once? I checked in two days ago!" he flared.

"There was no need, John. She was in no danger. It wasn't life threatening."

"You operated! Damn it, I should have been here!" he argued, voice rising again.

"Quiet! I told you, she was in no danger. She will make a full recovery."

"That's what you said the last time!" he retorted. "What was wrong? The cramping?"

"It got worse. Much worse. Excruciating. I had to remove–"

"John?" He turned as she shifted, fingers moving in his. "John?" she whispered.

"I'm here, Moira." He sat on the edge of the bed as she opened her eyes, blinking in a daze. "Remove what?" he asked, eyes never leaving her.

"John?" she asked again. She frowned, tried to sit but he eased her back.

"I'm here, Moira," he repeated. He pushed the control button, raising the back of the bed to a seated position. "Moira..." He frowned at her drugged expression. Too bright eyes and pale face. He looked at Carson. "Remove what?" he repeated.

Carson sighed. "I don't know. At first I thought it was a parasite but now..."

"A parasite? Living inside her foot?" John asked in disbelief.

"Incubating," she said. Coughed.

John turned to her. Held a glass of water for her to sip. He set it aside, caressed her fingers still in his. "Incubating? You mean like an, an insect?"

"Yes," Carson answered. "Something triggered the incubation to end. For the larvae to emerge and move."

John winced, but schooled his expression. "And she's all right now? You removed all of it?"

"Yes, John. She's perfectly fine now," the doctor assured.

"I want to see it." Moira's voice was calm. Steady.

John's startled gaze swung back to Moira. "What? You..." He eyed Carson. "You're telling me it's still here? Alive?"

"Yes. Not right now, Moira. You need to rest," Carson insisted.

"Wait, wait, it's still alive?" John repeated, stunned. "What the hell is it?" He glanced around the room, not knowing what to expect.

"I don't bloody know," Carson admitted. Shoulders sagging almost in defeat.

"Sub-Wraith proteins," Moira said softly, gaze locked on John. Her fingers tightening on his.

He looked back at her. "What? But, but how? That was months ago! How..."

"I don't know," Carson repeated. "Somehow the attack resulted in an implantation that was dormant until–"

"You didn't let go," Moira said, tears in her eyes. "John, John, if you had let go..." She shuddered at the possibilities.

He caressed her hand. "I'll never let go, Moira. Never. You're safe." He looked at Carson. "So what the hell triggered it?"

Carson shrugged. "I'm not certain," he hedged, having his suspicions but keeping them to himself for now.

"Is it a sub-Wraith?"

"No...it's more like an insect at the moment."

"The Iratus bug?" John scowled, suppressed a grimace. "Right? Those damn things weren't on that planet though..."

"Enzyme," Moira said. Looked at Carson, eyes widening. "That...endorphins...same..."

"Could be the trigger, yes," Carson reluctantly agreed. "I'm sorry."

John looked from one to the other. "Whoa, what? What? I hate it when you do that! Care to clue in the guy who's not in on the psychic link?"

Moira shifted in the bed, moaned. "It still hurts, Carson," she complained, changing topics. Suddenly embarrassed. Nervous.

Carson smoothly followed suite. "It will for a few days, love, maybe even weeks. I should take a look at it. John, could you give us some privacy, please?"

"What? Why? I've seen her foot, Carson," John objected. Stubbornly not moving.

Moira freed his hand, causing him to turn to her. "Please, John...you don't need to see more scars...and I don't want you see them like this...so, so raw..."

"All right, Moira. For you. I'll be over there." He leaned close, gently kissed her lips. Stood. Wandered across the infirmary, with several glances until he turned his back on them.

"Thank you," she said to Carson, voice falling softly. "If we're right...I mean...he doesn't need to know. He'll blame himself and it's not his fault. It's no one's fault. It never showed up in any scan, did it?"

"No, it didn't. It was microscopic, buried in your tissue." He hesitated. "I hate to ask this, but as you know the enzyme's properties include an increase in endorphin levels and the hormonal surges...and since you are not on the enzyme, nor is John...you've been having a significant increase in your...er...levels..." Carson nearly blushed, moved to gently unwrap her foot.

Moira blushed. Licked her lips, staring at her foot as the doctor removed the heavy gauze. "Um...yes. A...significant increase in...those particular levels...um...in frequency and..." Her voice trailed into a guilty silence.

"I see. That very well could have been the trigger." Carson eyed the fresh cuts made by his scalpel, the stitches crisscrossing the older scars. He turned her foot this way and that, making her bite her lip to suppress her grunt of pain. He procured a fresh bandage, wrapped it. "It looks better today. But it will take time to heal. Don't get it wet, and you need to stay off it."

John turned to view them, hearing her slight, muffled moan. Saw her flustered expression, rosy face. Saw a glimpse of harsh red cuts and stitches on her scarred foot before Carson wrapped it. Heard their quiet voices. Wondered what had embarrassed her. Besides her foot.

"Carson, don't tell him. John doesn't need to know," Moira advised.

"John doesn't need to know what?" John asked, joining them. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand into his again. "Moira?"

She hesitated, looked across the room. "I want to see it. Carson, please. I need to see it."

"All right," Carson reluctantly conceded.

What don't I need to know?" John persisted. "Carson, she's going to be all right, isn't she?"

"She will be fine, John. We were just talking about the Iratus bug and we both know how you hate that particular subject," Carson smoothly lied, wheeling over a glass case on a trolley. A florescent bulb shone harshly on the swathed interior.

Moira stared, a gasp escaping her lips. Her hold on John's hand tightened. "My God..."

John stared in mute disgust. A slight movement caused him to flinch. The wiggling whitish pupae sac was the size of his thumb. "What the hell is that? You said a sub-Wraith? That came out of Moira's foot?"

"Yes. When I removed it the thing was the size of her pinkie toe. It's growing," Carson gravely remarked.

"It's doubled in size?" Moira asked. She leaned forward, moving but paused as her foot ached. John's hold on her hand tightened. "I don't believe it!"

"Take it away," John ordered. He turned back to Moira as Carson wheeled it across the room. "It's all right, honey. It's out of you now. Carson, why the hell didn't that show up in any of your scans?" he demanded.

"It's not his fault, John," she soothed.

"It was too small. Indistinguishable from her soft tissue, and inert," Carson explained. "Moira, you need to rest."

"No. I...no, no more sedatives, Carson, please! I feel like I'm wrapped in wool. I can't focus."

"As long as you rest. And sleep," Carson admonished.

"Oh! John!" She drew his attention back to her. "What happened? Ford...did you–"

"No. He wasn't there. Nor were his men. I'm fine," he added to her concern.

"Colonel Sheppard to the conference room," a voice announced over the comm.

"Go, John. Moira needs to rest. You can see her afterwards," Carson encouraged.

"Go on, John, I'm fine," she assured. "Now that you're back." She glanced at the floor where he had set his gun. "You can take your P90 too. That's a bit of an overkill for that grub, isn't it?"

He smiled. "Moira." He leaned close, kissed her. "I'll be back ASAP. I promise. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"It's all right, John. There's nothing you could have done," she soothed.

He kissed her again. "Get some sleep." He stood, taking his gun. "If there's any change you will page me," he said sternly. Looked at Moira again. Left.

Moira settled back, shifted. Winced. "You won't tell him, will you, Carson? About the, the trigger?"

"No. There's no need. Actually it was probably a good thing it was triggered that way. Otherwise it may have taken weeks for that...grub to work its way up your leg, feeding. It could have killed you, Moira."

She paled, but smiled. "So you're saying that–"

"Yes, frequent, vigorous sex with John was a very good thing."

"A very good thing. You have no idea how good," she gushed. They quietly laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

Parasitism7

John stood in the control room, arms folded across his chest as he eyed the engaged wormhole. He glanced at Rodney who nodded. He tapped his earpiece. "Major Lorne, copy?"

"Yes, sir," floated Evan's voice across the transmission. "McKay's warning received and understood. Ford's twenty?"

"Unknown at present. Wrap up those negotiations and get Weir back here ASAP. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. We'll be doubly careful here. Orders?"

John considered. "Keep sharp, major. Sheppard out." He sliced his hand in the air.

Rodney disengaged the wormhole. Tapped the keyboard. "So...is everything okay with Moira?"

"No. Well, yes, now." John glared round at the technicians, the scientists, as if he blamed everyone in the city for not contacting him sooner. He met Rodney's gaze. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing. I'm just glad she's okay, John. Calm down."

"Sorry. I..." Without another word he strode out of the control room.

* * *

Moira carefully, carefully swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Set them onto the floor. Tested. Felt the ache in her foot. She shakily stood. Took a step. Grimaced. Managed to limp, leaning on the beds towards the incubator. She trapped her moans behind gritted teeth. Leaned heavily on the table. Stared down at the grub encased in the pupae. Saw it wriggle. She flinched backwards, startled, nearly fell but felt a man's body behind her. Arms encircling her waist.

"The white pajamas are very cute, but shouldn't that pert little ass of yours be in bed?" John teased into her ear. He supported her weight, kissed her throat.

She smiled, leaning against him. "John. It's alive. Moving. How can that possibly be?"

"You tell me. I'm no zoologist," he reminded. "Come away, Moira."

"No, John. I want to see. I need to see."

"What? Aren't you repulsed? I am," he stated, looking away from the wriggling creature.

"Yes, of course, but, but I'm fascinated too. The scientist in me–"

"Should be in bed like the rest of you. Come away, Moira." Gently he turned her. "Can you walk?"

"Yes. Just, just don't let go, John." She clung to him.

He sighed. "You shouldn't have gotten up in the first place, Moira." He gently swung her off her feet, carried her back to set on the bed.

"John! Moira, were you out of that bed?" Carson exclaimed, rushing to them.

"I had to see it. I had to–" Moira began.

"The only thing you need to do is to rest!"

John pulled up a chair, sat near the bed as she gingerly settled. "I'll make sure she stays put, doc. You know how stubborn Moira can be."

"Me? You wrote the book on stubborn, colonel!" she retorted, but smiled.

"Yes. Yes, I did," he agreed.

"Fine. Stay an hour, then go. My patient needs her rest, not to be trading flirtatious insults with you!" Carson scolded, but he smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere," John noted. "Not until Moira's released."

"John! You can't stay the whole night!" she fondly chastised. "Whatever are you going to do? Watch me sleep?"

"Yes. It's not like I haven't done that before. Oh, and keep you on your back. It's not like I haven't done that before either," he added with a smile.

She replied, "Under different circumstances I might just welcome that, colonel, but not here. Besides, you know I can't sleep very well on my back."

"That is true," he agreed. "You'll just have to make do for now, sweetheart. So relax. Hey, doc, how long is she going to be in here?" John asked, as if just noticing the doctor.

Carson shook his head at their interplay, amused. "Another night and day at the least. Sorry, Moira. I want to be certain you are healing. And resting."

She sighed. "I'd rather be in my own bed." She looked at John who was watching her. "John, seriously, don't stay all night. Go have dinner. Then go to bed. Please. I can't sleep if I know you're going to be uncomfortable all night."

"Tough. I'm not moving. But," he amended, seeing her frown, "I will grab a bite to eat. If you stay put I'll sneak in some chips. Carson, you didn't hear that."

"Hear what?" he played along.

"Fine. But take your time, John. No need to rush."

"You always say that, Moira." He smiled, stood. "Back in a few. Don't you move."

"As ordered, colonel. And don't forget my chips!"

* * *

"How is she?"

John looked up from his half-empty plate to see Ronon towering over him. Face full of concern.

"Fine. Now."

"Good." He sat. Silent. Expectant.

"What?" asked John.

"What do you want to do?"

"Right now? Finish this and go back to see Moira. But you didn't mean that," John tiredly realized. He sighed. Ran his hands over his face. "Ford."

"Yes."

John frowned. Shrugged. Stood. "Fuck if I know."

John strolled into the infirmary. Quietly neared Moira's bed. She was fast asleep again. He sat in the chair, set the bag of chips aside. He watched her awhile. Gaze moving over her peaceful face, messy hair. The slow rise and fall of her breasts. Down to her bandaged foot. He rubbed his eyes, relieved that she was all right. Healing.

"John," a hand on his shoulder roused him hours later, "you needn't stay here. Really."

John looked from Moira to Carson. "I will. In case she awakens. I should have been here. I should have been informed the second it happened."

"I'm sorry, John, but there was no need. As I've said she was never in any real danger."

"Is that true? Then what is it that I don't need to know? Come on! You'd think I'd fall for the old Iratus bug story? Well?"

Carson sighed. "It's nothing. No," he held up a hand, "doctor patient privilege. But I swear to you that her life was never in any danger since I operated and removed that thing. Stay, if you insist, colonel, but I'm going to bed for a few hours. I'll check on you both later."

John frowned, crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at Moira, full of questions, concerns. He shifted in the hard chair to get comfortable.

Moira stirred, moving. Caught in a weird dream full of sub-Wraith, Iratus bugs. John. John making love to her, sweet and slow, but suddenly speeding up as he morphed into the half-Wraith the retro virus had turned him into briefly. Thrusting hard, impregnating her with a sub-Wraith progeny that tore itself out of her.

She jerked awake, gulped and sat. Moaned as her foot ached at her sudden motion. She looked over at the chair. John was slumped forward, asleep. She stared, smiled. Moved by his stubborn persistence. His concern. Her gaze darted to the incubator. A yellowish glow in the dark. Carefully she swung her feet to the floor. Tested her weight. Stepped awkwardly to a wheeled chair. Sat and rolled herself to the containment vessel. She stared, open-mouthed.

"Damn it, Moira, why won't you stay put?" John had awakened, hearing her. He stood behind the chair, hands on the back of it to wheel her away from the thing.

"I couldn't sleep. I had a, a bad dream. Look, John! It's, it's astonishing! It's nearly tripled in size in only a few hours!" She gasped as it wriggled violently.

John pulled the chair away from it, drew his sidearm in one fluid motion. He neared, staring at the wriggling larvae sac, now the size of his hand. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "What the hell is that thing? Should it be accelerating that much?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Carson hurried to the pair. "Moira! Why aren't you in–"

"Look, Carson! It's tripled in size!"

"What?"

"That's it. I'm putting an end to this scientific experiment," John decided. He clicked the safety off his gun, aimed it. "It doesn't matter what the hell it is now that is out of Moira's foot."

"No! John, you can't!" Moira objected, moving awkwardly.

"No, John," Carson agreed. "We need to know exactly what it is! For all we know it isn't the Iratus bug or a sub-Wraith but an entirely new species of parasite we–"

"I don't care what it is! It's alive and an obvious threat!"

"John, please!" She reached up to grab his arm. "We have to know! I have to know! It's perfectly safe in the containment field, right, Carson? John, please!"

John met her pleading gaze, earnest expression. He slowly clicked the safety back into place. Lowered the gun. "All right. For now." He eyed Carson. "But you're moving that thing into the Wraith lab. It has the highest level of security. Now."

"Thank you, colonel. That's a fair compromise."

"Lock it up tight, Carson, or I will kill it," John vowed. He holstered his weapon. Touched the back of Moira's chair. "I'll take her highness here to her room so she can sleep. And I'll make sure she stays in her bed. Even if I have to tie her down."

Moira smirked, looked up at him. "Hilarious, John. Ooh...aren't you the one who likes to be tied up?"

"Hilarious, Moira. Let's go." He wheeled her out of the infirmary. "I've got something to show you. If you're not quite ready to go to sleep. Something I filmed on P1R359." He opened her door, wheeled her to the bed. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"Cute, John, very." She watched him leave. Shakily she got out of the chair and onto the bed. She scooted up to the headboard, sat and gingerly moved her bandaged foot. Smiled as he returned, data pad in hand. "What is it?"

Wordlessly he handed her the data pad. Sat to remove his boots. "I saw them on the perimeter check. Tell me what you think."

Moira opened the pad, played the footage. Stared. Drew the screen closer to her.

John sat next to her, scooting up to sit beside her. He slipped his arm around her, watching her. Smiled at her intrigued, studious, then delighted expression. "So? Did I do good?"

"Very good!" She met his gaze. Kissed him. Snuggled against him. "Look, John!" She replayed the footage. "If I'm not mistaken those aren't ordinary wolves, not _canis lupus _but dire wolves! Or a descendant or a subspecies! It's definitely not _canis lupus _but _canis dirus _from the Pleistocene! Much heavier in their build and the coat is darker, see there?" She pointed at the screen, freezing the image of the animal. "They were thought to be more like scavengers than actual predators but did you see them hunting?" She looked at him suddenly. He was watching her, an amused, warm expression on his handsome face. "John? Oh, I'm sorry..." She shrugged, smiled. "Guess I should dial it down or you will fall asleep."

"No." He kissed her gently. "Never. My Moira." He kissed her again, drew the pad from her, set it aside. Stroked her hair, her arm. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'm here now. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, Moira. That won't happen again." He kissed her brow. "They should have contacted me the minute, no, the second you were in distress."

She smiled. "No, John, there was nothing you could have done. Even your overzealous protection couldn't have prevented this."

"Hmm..." he disagreed. "Still..."

She sighed, shifted slightly onto her side. Moving her foot carefully. She touched his chest. "John..." She winced. "I can't sleep just yet. Will you, will you stay a little longer?"

"I'll stay all night, Moira, don't you worry. Relax. Want to watch a movie? Hey, I know! How about Alien?"

She laughed. Hit him. "Hilarious, John!"

He smiled. "Sorry. Too soon? I couldn't resist." His hold momentarily tightened. "Moira." So much emotion in that one word.

"I'm fine, John," she soothed, hearing his worry despite his light, teasing tone. Feeling the tension in his body. His warmth, his solid concern. His love enveloping her. "Don't you worry, sweetie. I'm with you. Do you want to talk about the mission?"

"No. There's nothing to talk about. Relax, Moira." He considered. "We are testing out the new array of P90s we got in from the SGC. Specs are up to standard, past standard. They're pushing for more ammo power, which is a good thing, but what we need is more accuracy. Especially at a distance. They were using AK-47s but the range isn't that penetrating compared to the standard P90s, plus the loading clips are more durable and..." he paused. Smirked. Moira was falling asleep. "Thought that would do it," he fondly remarked.

Moira smiled as if she had heard him. She remained still, eyes closed. Relaxing into a gentle slumber. Secure. John stared at the darkness, still stroking her arm. Allowing himself to feel the anxiety, the sheer dread that he had lost her. Then the relief that he had not. He gently eased them down to a reclining position. Moira stirred, moaned when she moved her foot. She slid partially on top of him, fingers clutching at his shirt. He stroked her back, kissed her brow. Not about to let her go. He closed his eyes, keeping her close. Keeping her safe.


	8. Chapter 8

Parasitism8

Moira moved. Regretted it as pain flared in her foot. She eased herself off John, but his arm drew her back to him. She shifted. "John? John?"

He woke instantly, stared at her. "Moira? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He freed her so she could sit. She swung her legs to the floor. "It's morning."

"So I see," he said, squinting at the sunlight shining in the room. "How do you feel?"

"Hungry. Tired. Sore. Dirty."

"Hmm."

She looked back at him. "No, I mean I need a shower! But I can't get my foot wet."

"Do you want me to help you with that?"

"No. I..." She moved to stand but he was abruptly there, arm sliding around her waist.

"Lean. Here." He helped her walk to the bathroom. "Are you sure you don't need my help? Seriously, Moira," he admonished, seeing her smirk.

She turned to him. "I'll let you know. Now scoot, flyboy."

He smiled. "Fine. I just don't want you slipping and falling on that pert little ass." He moved back to the bed. Reclined, stretching. Waiting. He heard the water running. Closed his eyes, trying not to imagine her in the shower. Trying to imagine her in the shower.

Moira struggled. Holding an awkward stance to shower, to shave her legs, to wash her hair. Trying not to fall as the hot water pounded her, made her feel better. She had almost finished when the loofah flew from her hands. Landed at the other end of the stall. "Shit!" She angled, tried to bend towards it and nearly fell. She caught herself. "Shit!" She sighed. Smirked. Grinned. Thinking of John. Thinking of the enjoyable consequences. "John! John!" she called.

John jumped off the bed, strode to the bathroom. Entered. Smiled. "Moira?" Her bandaged foot was sticking out of the shower as she peered around the curtain at him.

She smiled. "Um...I dropped my loofah."

"Oh. Oh? Is that our new code phrase?" he teased with a dazzling smile.

"Depends, John. Well? Strip, flyboy, and come get my loofah!"

He laughed, began to undress. "On my way, doctor. I'd like nothing better than to get hold of your loofah."

She laughed. "I bet!" She ducked back into the shower.

Once naked he pulled the curtain to take a long look at her. Dripping wet and naked she glared at him. "Ah, baby...ah baby..."

"Shut up and get my loofah, sweetie!"

He laughed. "As ordered." He stepped in, stepped past her and leaned over to retrieve it.

She smiled. "Ah, sweetie! Ah sweetie...fine, fine ass there."

He straightened. "Here."

"No! Don't move yet," she ordered. Took the loofah as he handed it over his shoulder to her. She braced herself against him. "Oh colonel, that is just what I needed. Something long, and lean, and hard to support me."

"You got that, baby, don't you worry," he rejoined. He tensed, feeling her wet skin on him, her body pressed to his. Could only imagine what she was doing. Tried not to react but she started to moan, to teasingly call his name. "Hilarious, Moira." The water felt good, soothing. "Baby, where exactly are you using that loofah?"

"Oh John, oh John," she breathed into his ear. She ran it up his back. "Wouldn't you like to know, sweetie? It's quite rough...isn't it?"

"Yes, damn. Damn, Moira, are you serious?"

She kissed his shoulder. Slipped. "Whoa!"

He whirled, caught her. Pulled her gently to him. Kissed her as the water pounded him. "Done?"

"Wow, John..." She ran her hands on his wet skin. Chest hair tangled, dripping. Water sluiced along his bare shoulders. Ran down his jaw. "I want to lick you all over, sweetie...God you are hot like this." Her gaze devoured him. Hands running along his slick skin. "Help me out."

"What? Oh." He smiled, eyes roaming. He licked his lips, riveted by the sight, the feel of her naked, wet body. His erection stiffened. "Oh oh." He stepped out of the water, shutting it off. He helped her. Swung her up into his arms, making her laugh.

"John!" She squirmed but clung to him. Kissing him, licking the water as he carried her to the bed. "John, wait! We're both soaking wet!"

"The wetter the better, baby. Especially for licking." He gently set her on the bed, near the edge. Moved carefully onto her. Watching as her she slid her foot to hang over the edge of the bed. "Moira? How's that?"

She pulled him closer, kissing him for an answer. Running her hands all over him. Opening her legs invitingly. Feeling his hardness pressing. A rush of desire made her hot, tight. "Oh John, oh John, I'm even wetter now...John..."

"Are you sure?" he asked, kissing her. Running his mouth down her throat, down to her breasts. Body shifting carefully along hers. She arched, clutched. Moaned. Winced.

"Ow."

"Ow?" He lifted.

"No." She pulled him back onto her. "I can't move my foot is all. Distract me, John. Oh John." She kissed him eagerly, mouth tugging at his. Demanding. "Please, please," she whispered, squirming, hungry for him. Needing. Wanting. She ran her mouth along his stubbled jaw, circled his ear. Licked down his throat. Fingers gliding in his wet hair, on his wet back.

He groaned, feeling her so wet, so ready, his own need escalating. Her kisses passionate, luring him. Demanding him. He moved carefully, entered her with a long, low sigh of pleasure. Enjoyment as she tightened on him, squirming. He thrust slowly, mouth wandering to lick the water off her skin. Hands caressing.

Moira arched, sighed loudly. Happily. "Oh John! Oh John...faster! Harder!"

"Are you sure, Moira?" he asked huskily. Straining but trying not to rush. Not to take her all at once, although he dearly, dearly wanted to plunge into sexual abandon. Needed to drown them both in pleasurable waves.

"Yes, oh yes, John! Bring me, bring me hard!" she gushed, bending one knee as her injured foot dangled safely off the bed. She clutched, clung. "Oh John!"

John kissed her, quickening the pace, all too glad to comply. Thrusting harder, faster, grunting as he slid deliciously along her with intimate precision. "Fuck, oh fuck! Moira, oh fuck I wanted this so bad, so bad," he growled.

"John! Oh John, John, John!" she enthused, moving with him as the bed rocked, rocked. "So close, John, so fucking close! Please, please, oh God...so close!"

He complied, rhythm gaining momentum, duration. "Fuck! Fuck!" he snarled, tried to lower his voice as he was coming hard. Fast. Suddenly slowed with an effort. "Moira? Aren't you–"

"Not yet, John, you're so close! So fucking close!" she urged, squirming as if to give him another angle. The climax hovered just out of reach, pleasure suspended, caught between the rush and the rhythm.

"Damn it! You have to come, baby, you always come! Always! My baby always comes just before I do," he grumbled. "Let's see..."

She smiled at his honest concentration, as if he were trying to solve a problem. He shifted, began moving again, thrusting at a different momentum. Harder. Deeper. "Oh John!" she cried, as he brought her suddenly. A bright crash of climax that made her cry out loudly, made her writhe under her, clutch at him. "Oh John–"

"John, John," he said it with her, as she flooded, a wave of orgasmic pleasure leaving her breathless, melted. The bed rocked wildly. Headboard slamming the wall. "That's it, baby! That's...oh fuck! Moira! Fuck–"

"Fuck, fuck," she said with him as he came in a violent shudder. A strained thrust and release at last that left him sated. He exhaled in pleasure, rested a moment on her. Smiled.

"Hilarious, Moira."

"Hilarious, John," she rejoined. Kissed him. Over and over as he moved to catch her mouth with his. "Ah, John, that was so good! So very good...you can keep me on my back any time."

"I will," he stated low, but smiled. "Believe me, Moira, I will." He eased out of her, off her. Stroked her rosy, blissful face. Kissed her. "Guess we'll have to shower again."

"No. You know what will happen then."

"Exactly." He grinned.

She laughed. "John!"

"What?" he asked innocently. Rolled onto his back. "I don't know if that was medically appropriate but damn that felt good. Very good."

She sat, frowned. "I'll have to strip the entire bed now. Damn it, John!"

He laughed. "Damn it, Moira," he rejoined happily. "Do you need my help, baby?"

"No." She stood, limped awkwardly to the dresser. "Well? I know you want to say something," she noted as she pulled out underwear.

He smiled, watching her. "I was studying your foot, actually, baby, but since you insist..." he paused, eyes roving as she awkwardly stepped into a pair of panties, pulled them up, wiggling.

"Ah baby, prettiest pert little ass in both galaxies, I swear!"

She laughed, put on a bra. Pulled on a blue t-shirt. "Whoa!" She nearly fell but he was there, catching her. Drew her back to sit on the bed. "Thank you."

"Any time, baby." He pulled on his own clothes. Watched her comb her hair. He touched her back, sitting close. Hearing her moan he scooted closer. "Are you all right, honey?"

"Foot's sore, that's all." She kissed him, playfully ran her comb through his hair. Grinned. "You look so disheveled, colonel. Like you just spent the night in a storm."

He smiled. "I did. In a Moira storm. All right. First to Carson. Then to breakfast. And I need to change into clean clothes." He stood, wheeled the chair to her. "In."

She laughed. "Uh, John...pants first?"

"I'm wearing pants, Moira, can't you...oh! You? Well, if you insist." He laughed at her scowl. Handed her the khakis flung over a chair.

She shakily stood, pulled them on and sat in the chair. Sighed. "How am I going to get all of this cleaned up?"

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry." He kissed her. Wheeled her out of her room.

"Wait! You need to change your clothes first, sweetie. People will talk," she warned, half serious, half in jest.

"Let them. I don't care." At her scowl he sighed. "Fine. After I leave you with Carson. Hell, Moira, it's not like it's a secret we're sleeping together. Repeatedly."

"I know, but..."

"But? Spill it, baby. Now." He waited. "Moira?"

"Nothing, John." She was silent as he wheeled her into the infirmary. Turned as Carson approached, eying them both. Their damp hair. Blissful expressions.

"She needs something for the pain," John stated. "But nothing too strong."

"Weren't you going to change?" she asked, turning to view him.

"Me? Change?" He spread out his hands. "Why change this perfection?"

Moira laughed. "Will you go? That is if your ego will fit through the door!"

"My ego fits everywhere, Moira...even your loofah." He laughed at her scowl, her smile. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

She laughed as he left. Sighed. "He's right."

"About your loofah?"

"What? No, I mean yes, I mean...no!" She colored. "About my foot. It is sore."

"Then keep off it, you silly woman," Carson scolded. "Let's take a look, shall we? I'll give you some pain meds to manage it."

Moira watched as he deftly removed the bandages. Inspected the wounds, the stitches. Turned it this way and that. Had her flex her toes. He wrapped it in a fresh bandage. "Well?"

"So far so good."

"No, I mean good, but I meant the thing. Has there been any change?"

Carson met her gaze. "It's larger." He shrugged at her surprise. "Honestly, Moira, I've never seen anything like it! I've only been able to get a few tissue samples. The cocoon is very tough to penetrate. And it's always moving. Whatever is inside it is growing exponentially."

Moira made to stand. "I need to see it, Carson!"

"I don't know, love. It's bound to upset you."

"I don't care." She winced, sat in the chair again. "I need to see it. Have you learned anything from the samples?"

"So far, no." Carson sat across from her. "From our initial tests it appears to be more insect than humanoid. But it does have humanoid appendages."

Moira shuddered. "Appendages? So...a, a sub-Wraith? Or a genetic..."

"A mutation absorbing perhaps some of your own human DNA...cellular enzymes."

"Enzymes. Like John's retro virus? Through a Wraith."

"It's possible but I don't see how."

"Enzyme expansion on a biochemical–"

"But only through blood...or saliva...possibly..."

" Not again," John complained, joining them. He looked from one to the other. "Translation, please, for the non-psychic, non-scientific guy?"

"We're postulating theories, that's all. About the differing tissue samples and exotic DNA strands," Carson explained.

John looked at Moira. She was staring at him. His hair was combed. His face clean-shaven. He had on a clean black t-shirt and blue pants. "Again, translation?"

She smiled. "You're too distracting...and I don't want to fill your pretty head with all that scientific–"

"Blah blah blah?" he finished for her, scowled. "What else is new? I'm surprised you can even concentrate on science, Moira, after what I did with your loofah." She snorted, trying not to laugh, instead preparing to scold him when he looked at Carson. "So you're saying this thing contains trace elements of several DNA strands, both of the various Wraith strands and the Iratus bugs?"

"In a word, yes, colonel. Impressive, John."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can walk and chew gum at the same time too. Geez!" he exclaimed, causing laughter. "Your highness, where to now?" He grabbed the back of the chair.

"Actually, John...Carson and I were going to–"

"The Wraith lab, of course. You mean that thing is still alive?" John asked, frowning.

"Yes." Carson eyed her . "Are you sure, Moira?"

"Yes. But John doesn't–"

"Like I'd let you go without me? Let's roll."

"I can walk–" she began to protest, but he was moving the chair.

"Let's roll." He pushed the chair. "Keep that pert little ass still," he advised.

"John!" she scolded as Carson joined them. "I can walk. What are you going to do? Wheel me around all day?"

"Not all day. You'll need to be on your back some time today. Won't she, Carson?"

"I'm not going near that one," Carson blithely remarked. They laughed. "We could have used a proper wheelchair."

"No! I'm not an invalid!" Moira protested. "Just–"

"Incapacitated for a few days," John finished for her. "Keep still and enjoy the ride."

"Funny. That's what you said last night," she teased.

"Yeah...and boy did you ever enjoy the–"

"John! Shush!"


	9. Chapter 9

Parasitism9

John slowed the chair as they entered the Wraith lab. Carson moved ahead of them to unlock the inner lab. Remembering his last time here, when he had been trapped with Moira and the undead Wraith he glanced round. Tense. Felt the comforting weight of his gun at his thigh. He touched Moira's shoulder. "Is it safe?"

"Of course," Carson assured, glancing over his shoulder at them. The panel chimed. The light turning from red to green. The door slid open.

John wheeled Moira inside, stopped abruptly. "Shit."

Moira caught his hand on her shoulder.

The larger containment vessel held a much larger specimen. Nearly the size of a large house cat. Wriggling in a viscous yet tough membrane. A whitish-gray color that appeared wet.

"Good Lord...it's doubled again," Carson mused, his voice quiet. Almost caught in awe as he stared down at the creature.

"Again?" John and Moira said at the same time.

"Wheel me closer," Moira said. She tried to move the chair but John held onto it. "John! Closer, please!"

"No." Instead he stepped up to the containment vessel, to stand next to Carson. He stared in disgust, swallowing past the sudden urge to vomit. "You have no idea whatsoever?"

"No. Not until it emerges. Its gestation is alarmingly rapid. It could be due to the insect DNA, or the production of a natural enzyme." The doctor moved to consult a data screen monitoring the creature.

John glanced at Moira, who was staring at the thing. He followed Carson to the computer. "Enzyme? You mean...hey, didn't Moira say this all started with the enzyme? From the moss? From the Iratus bugs?"

"Yes, John. It's a naturally occurring substance in this galaxy, but not widespread. The Iratus bug absorbed it and produced its own potent version."

"And onto the Wraith, yeah, I got that. But that thing," he gestured towards the case, "is producing it too? Doesn't that prove it's a bug, or at least a sub-Wraith?"

"Possibly, but there are several genetic mutations caused by different bio-chemical reactions."

Moira stood as they talked in low tones. She limped awkwardly to the case. Repulsed. Fascinated. She stared down at the cocoon, peered at the moving mass enveloped in the tissue. She could make out limbs. Possibly a head. She touched the glass with the palm of her hand as her foot began to ache. Suddenly the grub wriggled violently. Crashing towards her on the glass. Rearing up to reveal a protruding antennae. Moira gasped in horror. Stumbled backwards. Fell as the vessel rocked.

"Moira! Damn it!" John flew to her, pulling her back as the vessel rocked. The thing was up against the glass, leaving a slimy trail. "Carson! Get out, now!" John hauled Moira to her feet, set her in the chair. Turned to draw his weapon.

"It can't break the glass, colonel. It is agitated, that's all," Carson reassured. His voice oddly calm, as if nothing unusual was happening.

"Agitated? So am I! Moira!"

Moira was on her feet again, moving towards the case as if inexplicably drawn. "I have to see!"

She fell as her foot gave out. "No! No!" She fought but John hauled her back, forced her onto the chair.

"Don't move!" he ordered, moving in front of her. Aimed his gun at the vessel. "This ends now!"

The case became still. The grub fell down. Lay inert. Silence. John cautiously advanced, gun at the ready. The thing was still inside the cocoon. Moved a little. Carson joined him. "It's developing. Either the cocoon will become larger, or it will finally emerge."

"Don't care." He clicked off the safety. "It's too dangerous. It ends now. Open the case."

"No! John, you can't!" Moira protested, but he whirled, lowering the gun to face her.

"Moira's right, John. We have to see what emerges! This could answer many questions!"

"Don't care," he repeated. "I don't give a shit about your questions, doc! The safety of this city has been compromised!"

"John, please! We need the data! We could find a new weakness to combat the Wraith! The bugs!" Moira urged, trying to stand but he advanced on her, blocking her.

"Stay!" He looked from one to the other. "All right...for now it stays alive, but it leaves this city," he decided. Clearly unhappy. "We're moving it to the Alpha site." He tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds, copy? Get your team to the 'Gate room ASAP. And send Andrews to the Wraith lab."

"Very well, colonel," Carson sighed. "Hand me that tarp. We'll need to cover it for transport, keep it protected. And I'll need a larger containment vessel as well."

John grabbed a tarp from the shelf, helped Carson drape it over and around the case. "Luckily this thing is on wheels," he grumbled, replacing the gun to its holster.

Moira stood, testing her foot. "We'll need more scanners too, and a microscope to test the various DNA strands against its earlier–"

"You're not going," John stated flatly.

"What? Of course I'm going!" she flared.

"I'll need her expertise," Carson agreed.

"What?" John looked from one to the other. "No. She can barely stand, much less walk! What are you going to do, wheel her through the 'Gate and half a klick to the site?" he scoffed.

"Yes."

"I can walk! I need to study this!" She limped. Stumbled.

John deftly caught her. "Yeah, Moira, you're ready for the marathon, I can see. Here!" He set her back onto the chair. "Now sit there!"

"No! Carson can wheel me there then! You can't–"

"I can! You are not going and that is final!"

"John!" She stood. "I have to study it! I have to be near it!"

"Why? Are you feeling maternal towards it?" he snapped, bewildered.

"What? Don't be preposterous!"

"I need her assistance, colonel! I'll wheel her there in a proper chair and make certain nothing befalls her. If you'd leave your personal feelings aside you would see–"

John turned, frowning at Carson's scolding. "Excuse me? This has nothing to do with that! Since when do you ever put the needs of a patient behind the needs of your research? You are being irrational, Carson, as is Moira."

"Me? Excuse me, colonel, but I need Moira's zoological expertise more than you need her for you own sexual escapades. She is a necessary–"

John glowered, tensing. "That thing is obviously affecting you! Or so help me you'd be on the floor right now! Moira, you...damn it! Moira!"

Moira had moved to her feet. Was limping to the covered vessel. She touched it, leaning on it. "I'm going with it, John! No one else except Carson has the necessary knowledge and ow!" Her foot ached, twisting. "John, no! Let me go!"

John pulled her gently away from the vessel. Sat her on the chair. "Stay! You are not going, Moira! What the hell is wrong with you? Obviously somehow that thing is affecting both of you! Maybe another psychic wavelength, I don't know."

"Don't be ridiculous, John! It doesn't even have a fully-formed brain yet, or any of the Wraith's telepathic abilities! I have to go with it! I have to, and none of your military bullying will change my mind so move!" Moira flared, trying to stand again.

"Sit!" He held her in the chair, gentle yet firm pressure on her shoulders. "You are not going and that is final! Now keep that pert little ass on this chair! Or I swear to God I will tie you to it!"

She glared at him. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Want to try me?" He freed her, straightened. "Carson, get that fucking thing to the 'Gate room. I'll be right behind you."

"So will I." Moira was moving to her feet, but froze as John's gaze swung to her.

"I warned you." Moira stared, feeling a weird thrill as he undid his belt. Removed it from his pants. Held it a moment, a hint of a smile on his lips before he moved behind her. He gently pushed her into a seated position. Wrapped the belt over her arms and waist. Fastened it securely but not too tightly. "There. Andrews!"

"Yes, sir?" The lieutenant was staring, wide-eyed.

"John!" Moira struggled, but was held in place. "John! You can't–"

"I just did. Until your head clears you are not budging! Andrews, make certain she doesn't move from that chair. No one, I repeat, no one is to free her from that chair until I return. That is a direct order."

"Yes, sir!"

"John! You can't–"

"It's for your own good, Moira. You can barely walk. You're not thinking clearly. Andrews, wheel her to the infirmary and have the doctor on call give her something for her foot."

"Yes, sir." The young man moved to Moira.

"And obey my orders. I don't care who tries to free her, no one does until I return and do it myself. Carson, let's go! Now!"

"You can hardly leave Moira tied to a chair, John!" the doctor protested.

"I already have. Move! Or I will kill that thing," he threatened. He glanced at Moira, then followed Carson as he pushed the cart out of the lab.

"Colonel Sheppard, you are the one acting irrationally," Carson began to lecture. "We have a very unique scientific opportunity here to study the potential development of a sub-Wraith subspecies and all you want to do is to kill it. Plus you have denied me the knowledge and expertise of the most qualified scientist merely because she is your girlfriend and you want to keep her in your bed."

John sighed. "Firstly, this thing, whatever it is, is most clearly a threat to the city and has to be removed. And will be killed if it becomes an immediate danger to either yourself or my men who will be stationed with you. Secondly, you seem to have forgotten that the thing you are so anxious to protect and to study is nothing more than a disgusting parasite that came out of Moira's foot! And speaking of Moira, since she can hardly walk she will be safer in Atlantis. You two can communicate by radio. And oh..thirdly...her bed."

"Sir? What are your orders?" Jason asked, as he and his team stood waiting. They snapped to attention seeing their commander's glowering mood.

"Sargent, dial the Alpha site. Reynolds, you and your team are going to help Beckett with this...this thing. If you deem it a threat your orders are to kill it."

"Yes, sir!"

"Colonel! It is not a bloody threat!"

"But it will be, sooner or later," John argued. He watched the wormhole engage, the flush of kinetic energy. "Let's head out. Reynolds, take point."

* * *

Moira was silent. Fuming as she was wheeled to the infirmary by the very nervous lieutenant. She met the astonished looks of the nurses, the doctors but said nothing.

"What the...lieutenant, would you care to explain why on God's green Earth you have Doctor O'Meara tied to a chair?" questioned a smooth British voice.

Tim Andrews replied, "Colonel Sheppard's orders, Doctor Gregory. You need to give Doctor O'Meara something for her foot."

"Oh, do I now?" Alan asked, hands on his hips. Skepticism on his face.

"Yes, doctor. Colonel Sheppard's orders," the lieutenant dutifully informed.

"Oh, of course. Seeing how he is a medical expert, after all," Alan opined with heavy sarcasm. "Moira, what is going on? Here, I'll get you out of that ridiculous–"

"No, doctor." Tim took a step in front of Moira's chair. "I can't allow you to do that. My direct orders are to keep her as she is until Colonel Sheppard returns."

"What? You've got to be kidding me!" Alan exclaimed. "Right?" He looked from one to the other over his glasses.

Moira sighed. "No," she finally spoke. "He's not. Alan, I do need something for my foot. It's killing me now. Please."

"I'm certainly not going to leave you like that!"

"I have my orders, doctor," Tim reiterated. He wheeled Moira out of reach as the doctor took a step towards them. "I'm sorry, but I have to obey them. I'm sure Colonel Sheppard has his reasons."

"What possible reasons could he have to tie Moira to a chair?" Alan scoffed.

"He, he thinks he's protecting me," Moira acknowledged.

"Protecting you? From what?"

"The, the parasite. It's being transported to the Alpha site for study, and Colonel Sheppard wouldn't let me go with Carson," she complained. Still resentful.

"Oh, well, that does make sense, Moira, seeing as you can hardly walk. But still, to tie you to a chair...with a belt of all things?"

"No! You don't understand! I need to be there with it!" She struggled, but subsided. Sighed. "Damn it! Look, please, give me some pain meds for my foot, okay? Then you can free me!"

"No, Doctor O'Meara. Only Colonel Sheppard can do that," Tim reminded.

"Fine. I'll give him an hour. And I'll give you a shot of codeine, Moira, for the pain. You are in no condition to travel to the Alpha site, but you certainly didn't need to be tied to a chair!"

"Um, she did, doctor. She was out of control," Tim explained, feeling the need to defend his commander's actions, however unusual or strange.

"What? I can't believe she was–"

"Colonel Sheppard says that Doctor O'Meara and Doctor Beckett weren't acting rationally. He blamed the parasite."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Alan sniffed, as if insulted by John's appropriation of anything medical. "The parasite isn't even fully formed yet to have anything more than a minor cognitive function." He gave Moira a shot. She flinched at the pain, winced. "That should take care of it for now, Moira." He checked his watch. "An hour," he reminded the lieutenant, who was watching.


	10. Chapter 10

Parasitism10

John watched Carson and the marines set up the containment vessel in the temporary shelter on the Alpha site. They uncovered it to reveal the wriggling mass still locked in its cocoon. Carson busily fussed over it, hooking up monitors and bringing the computers online. He gestured and a marine followed him to a corner of the tent to set up the video feed.

"Sir?" Jason asked.

"Keep a close eye on Beckett," John ordered, turning to the major. "If he starts to behave irrationally or oddly, or if he attempts to free that thing haul his ass back to Atlantis. Along with your men. And kill that thing."

"Yes, sir."

"And if you deem that thing an immediate danger kill it. Radio me in one hour."

"Yes, sir."

"Carson!" John advanced towards him. "Monitor that thing. Radio me in an hour. You can compare your findings with Moira's back on Atlantis."

Carson turned to him. "I really need her here, colonel."

"Not going to happen," John refuted. His tone brooking no argument. "Reynolds, you're in charge." John eyed the men. Eyed Carson who appeared disgruntled. Glanced at the slimy grub in the vessel. Left.

* * *

Moira sighed, flexing her foot. She glanced at the lieutenant who was stoically standing near her chair, eyes on Alan as he worked nearby. Both men glancing repeatedly at the clock as the minutes turned to an hour. "Lieutenant, you must be hungry. Why don't you go get lunch? It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Can't, doctor. I have my orders," the young man stubbornly insisted.

Alan frowned, joining them. "Oh for God's sake, man! It's been nearly an hour! How long are you going to keep Moira tied to that chair?"

"Until Colonel Sheppard returns," the younger man stated.

"Bollocks!" Alan headed for Moira. "I'm going to release her, lieutenant. That way you will still be following your precious orders and Moira can get up before she loses feeling in her extremities!"

"No, doctor, you can't." Tim had moved to his feet.

"Sorry, son, but I've had quite enough of this!"

Tim drew his gun. "Doctor, back away, now. You can't free her!"

Moira looked from one to the other, startled.

"What?" Alan laughed. "Are you serious, young man?"

"Very, doctor. I have my orders. Orders that are never to be questioned. Especially orders concerning Doctor O'Meara."

"Really?" Moira asked, surprised. Alarmed.

"Your boyfriend seems to have gone overboard," Alan remarked. "Lieutenant, what are you going to do? Shoot me?" he scoffed. The two men stared at each other.

* * *

The moment was comical, but oddly tense. Everyone in a frozen tableau. Alan about to take a step round Moira's chair. Moira still tied to the chair, staring from one man to the other. Tim standing behind her, gun aimed directly at the medic.

John stared, brows furrowing in disbelief. Impressed at his orders being followed to the letter. "Stand down, Andrews."

Clearly relieved the lieutenant lowered, holstered his gun. "Yes, sir."

"Sheppard! What the–" Alan began angrily.

"For the record, Doctor Gregory, Andrews wouldn't have shot you. Well, he would have, but only to disable you. He's following my orders. Mine. Andrews, dismissed." John stepped to Moira, eyed her.

"Is it still alive?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

"That's your first question? I expected at the very least a furious monologue."

"Don't you worry," she smiled, "it's coming. So?"

He stepped behind her. Unbuckled the belt, slipped it off the chair. He moved in front of her to let her watch him slide it back into the loops of his pants. He fastened it as she flexed her arms, shifted on the chair. "You–"

"No." She stood, tested her weight on her foot. "It's better. Medicated." She stretched in front of him, arching her back, thrusting her breasts towards him. Angling side to side. "So?"

"Huh?" John was staring as the blue t-shirt hugged her breasts. The khaki pants snug on her hips. Her loose hair fell past her shoulders. "Oh. The thing. Yeah. Still alive. Carson's calling in an hour. Progress report. Can you–"

"Walk? Yes." She limped, winced. Took his arm. "Damn it. An hour?"

"Plenty of time for you to yell at me," he teased.

"Good. I'll need an hour, at least. Let's get lunch. I'm starving!"

He smiled, slowly guided her to the cafeteria. "Moira, now that you are calmer you can see why you couldn't go. That thing is, was exerting some weird influence over you. Argue all you want but it does. Did."

"You tied me to a chair, John," she mildly accused.

"I know, but I'm not apologizing, Moira. You weren't making sense. You could hardly walk. I was doing what I had to do at the time for your own good," John explained.

"You tied me to a chair, John!" she repeated more stridently. "How could you? How can you even justify that?" She freed his arm suddenly, stepped to lean against the wall.

John sighed. Knew the argument was inevitable. "Do we have to do this now? In the middle of a hallway?"

"Yes! Yes, we do!" she argued, angry. "You tied me to a chair, John! You–"

"What do you want me to say, Moira? I'm sorry? I'm not. Now let's go get lunch."

"You tied me to a fucking chair, John!" she nearly shouted. Glaring.

He stepped close, kissed her suddenly. A long, passionate, tongue twisting kiss. It made Moira run her hands up his chest to his neck, drawing him down to her, into her. She swooned onto him, murmuring in her throat. His arms surrounded her, pressed her body to his. He drew back to smile. "Better, my Moira?"

"Are you going to tie me to a chair again?" she asked, dazzled. Mollified. Aroused.

"Only if you want me to, baby," he replied. "Yours?"

She smiled. "Yes. Now?"

He glanced down at their bodies. "Um, yes. We can eat later."

"John." She kissed hm, took his arm. He led her to her room. She entered, plotting. Limped to the bed, turned as he closed the door. "Oh Jo-hn," she wooed in a sing-song voice.

He smiled, stepped to her. Kissed her, drawing her against him again. "I know exactly what you want, baby."

"You do, sweetie?" she teased. Ran her hands down his chest, his waist. Ran her hand down to his crotch. "I'm still mad at you, John. Very, very mad." She kissed him. Ran her mouth across his jaw to his ear. "Angry sex, sweetie," she whispered. Kissed down his throat. Fingers caressing along his thigh. "John,"she sighed, moved awkwardly to her knees. Kissing his waist as she lifted his shirt. "John, can you find my loofah for me?" She unzipped his pants.

John moaned, shifted his stance. Fingers in her hair, knowing full well what she was doing but not about to stop her. "Ah, baby, seems like you are trying to find mine." He licked his lips as she unbuttoned, unbuckled, pulled down his pants.

"Hmm, John...oh John...such ordnance, colonel," she wooed, ran her mouth along his shorts, his thigh. Tickling the bare skin.

He smiled, reacting. He caught her arms, gently pulled her to her feet to kiss her passionately. He lifted her to set her gently on the bed. Pushed her onto her back. He moved over her, kissing her. "Move your foot. Off."

She complied, pulling him closer. "Sweetie, sweetie, don't you want angry, angry sex?"

His hand slid up under her shirt, bra. To fondle. To tease. "Yes, I want angry, angry sex, Moira. You are going to be even angrier afterwards," he informed against her skin.

"What? No, sweetie, not if I have invited you," she argued.

"No sweetie during sex," he reminded, pushing up her shirt, bra. Replacing his hand with his mouth now.

Moira arched, moaning, fingers in his hair. Losing focus for a moment as her body began to thrum with desire. "Oh John, oh John..."

He circled, sucked the nipples. Ran his hand down between her legs to aggressively rub. "My Moira," he wooed. His fingers were becoming damp as she squirmed. He slid up to capture her mouth again. A long, searing kiss as he unbuttoned, unzipped her pants. Forgetting her agenda for a moment as the tension, the need built. Built.

She pushed him onto his back. Slid over him to kiss him repeatedly. Until she rolled off, yanking down her pants, her panties. Removing them awkwardly. "John, oh John..." She rolled back onto him, kissing him hard. Shoving her hands under his shirt to run her nails down his bare skin. Harshly.

"Ow! Moira?"

"Angry, John...don't you like angry?" she teased. "Oh, I see. You can tie me up, tie me to a fucking chair but I can't rough you up a little?"

He grinned, caught her. Moved her onto her back. "Foot. Off." She slid it off the bed, opening her thighs. He yanked down his shorts, kissing her again. "Ah, baby, you have no idea how rough it's going to be afterwards."

"Why do you keep talking about afterwards when you haven't even started?" she taunted, but arched, gasped as he entered her. She moaned, clung and rocked with him as thrust hard. "Oh John! Oh John!"

"You're coming right now, baby, so hard you'll hate me," he teased. Kissed her.

She whimpered, rocking wildly with him. Moans escalating as the pleasure circled, circled. Then slammed so abruptly she cried out, unable to stop. "John! Oh John! John!"

"Moira, you wanted angry, baby...oh fuck! Fuck, fuck!" he growled, pounding, driving into her until he came in a rush. A straining shudder. He slowed, but kept moving, propelled by the delicious momentum until she whimpered softly. He groaned, groaned, then rested on her. He quickly snatched a ribbon from her pillow sham. Kissed her lengthily. He tied their wrists together in a tangled knot.

Moira felt his hand on her wrist but was too distracted by his passionate, passionate kisses. His fading hardness still inside her. She moved beneath him. "John, oh John..." she whispered. He freed her, but rested on her. Kissed her throat. Teasing her earlobe until she murmured.

"My Moira...I need to tie you up more often, baby."

"Hilarious, John. Rest a moment..."

"I think I will. You're not going anywhere, baby. That's for damn sure." He smirked, shifted most of his weight off her. Closed his eyes, relaxing. "Moira. I'm sorry we couldn't make it to our sex room."

"Love nest," she corrected, caressing his back, his arm. She kissed his brow. She waited, trying not to distracted by the enjoyable sex. The sudden orgasm. The loving concern. To not be distracted by John, so handsome, warm. So devastatingly expert in how to pleasure her, himself.

When she felt him relax at last she moved slowly. Paused. His arm seemed stuck to hers. She moved her arm, stared. Saw the ribbon tying them together. "John? John! Damn it, John!" She hit him.

He laughed, raised his head to see her trying to awkwardly untie the ribbon. "It won't work, baby. I'll have to cut us apart once we're done."

"John! What is this? Some new kinky game?"

He laughed. "No. You really think I don't know what this was? Hmm? Distracting me with sex. Hoping I'd fall asleep so you could sneak off and somehow charm your way to the Alpha site? After your similar stunt in nineteen twenties land I know better."

She sighed. "Damn it," she muttered. "But you–"

"Had sex with you anyway? Hell, yes! I'm not going to ever refuse that, baby. Ever. Especially when you are trying to seduce me to your schemes."

She frowned, but laughed. "Why am I not surprised?" She kissed him. "Seriously, sweetie, untie me now. I am hungry and we can't miss the call from Beckett."

"Ah ha! Still? Damn...I was hoping sex would clear you of this weird obsession. Well, we can always keep trying."

"Obsession? My only obsession is with you, colonel."

He smiled. "If only, Moira." He kissed her. Sat and scooted down to retrieve his pants. He procured a pocket knife.

Moira moved with him. Peered past him to see lacy green material peeking out of the pocket. "John? What is that?"

He glanced there. Smirked. "What? That? Oh. I honestly forgot it was in there."

"You...you...is that...is that a pair of my–"

"Trophy, honey. Mine. Wow... I think I took them off-world with me," he teased.

"John! I don't believe you–"

He laughed, moving over her again. "Believe it, baby. Though I suppose you can have them back now. They're not up to specs any more."

She hit him. "You are sick, do you know that? Sick! Untie me, now!"

He grinned. Kissed her. "How about after five, no six–"

"Shut up! Untie me!" she ordered, hitting him but he kissed her. Shoving intimately against her. Revealing he was becoming aroused by their teasing and arguing.

"Are you sure, baby? This sounds like genuine angry sex ,and it turns me on. Hard, so hard."

She shoved. "Shut up, John!"

He laughed, scooted. "Hold still." He moved their bound wrists up and carefully slid the knife under the ribbon. Cut the material. "There. You...hey!"

She shoved him. Scrambled to the edge of the bed. Yanked on her panties. "Damn you, John Sheppard! What the hell is wrong with you? Tying me up, tying me to you! Faking that sex knowing all along what I was–"

"I didn't fake that sex, Moira, no way! Nor did you. You couldn't fake an orgasm like that."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut the hell–"

He caught her. Shoved her onto her back. Kissed her. Tempted to take her again. Annoyed and aroused. "Keep your voice down! Keep your tongue in my mouth and I will shut up," he offered, resumed kissing her. She pushed, hit him, but then pulled him onto her. Murmuring wildly as he shoved her thighs apart. Grabbed at the panties. He yanked them off her as an insatiable lust consumed him. Drove him. Thrumming in his head, his body.

"John! John, I want you! I want you inside me!" she breathlessly ordered, fingers clawing at his arms. His back. Feverish with lust, need. Kiss after kiss until she moaned, arched. He thrust, thrust hard, fast. Sliding into her without any preamble. Moira writhed, clung. Pushing and pulling him as the pleasure built, built. Built.

"Wider! Wider!" he growled, shoving her legs apart, bending her knees. Forgetting about her injured foot as he groaned. Swore profusely. "Fuck!" He pulled out of her, sat. Breathing heavily. Staring down at his unrelieved erection. Tense. Painful.

"John?" Moira sat, catching her breath. Felt as if she had been on a wave and then was suddenly dropped to the land.

"What the hell is wrong with us, Moira? Fuck, I can't get it to down. My whole body is like a, like a–"

"I'll get it down, John, don't you worry," she purred. "Come here." She touched his back. Kissed his throat.

"I...I don't want to hurt you, Moira," he said, voice husky. Slithering along her skin, along every nerve. He licked his lips. He yanked off his shirt, threw it across the room. "Shit. I need–"

"Me." She pulled off her shirt, her bra. Leaned close. "Come to me, John. Whatever this is we need to, um, alleviate it now. I trust you, sweetie. You won't hurt me. You never have." She stroked his bare back. Kissed along his shoulder. "John...shut the hell up and just take me."

He smiled, turned to her. Beamed seeing her naked. "Moira." He kissed her, moved them once more upon the bed. Groaned. "Fuck...I need to be inside you, baby."

"Then fuck me, John," she encouraged. Gasped as he slid into her. His mouth wandering. Hands wandering. Moira whimpered, moaned and squirmed. Momentum took over and they were locked together in a hot, hot rush.

Moira cried out softly, clung. Arching as his mouth greedily took her breasts. Almost painfully possessing the flesh. She clung but he grabbed her wrists, held them up to the headboard.

Thrust after thrust, their moans, their wordless grunts and exhalations in perfect sync. A weird, wordless but vigorous joining. The bed rocked in tandem. Moira tried to free her arms but John held them firmly. Trapping her. Shoving her up, up the bed until she splayed her palms against the headboard. Pushing herself down before her head slammed into it. Pushing herself down to take all of him as he thrust, thrust.

Moira whimpered as the climax crested, pulled her under in a trembling, throbbing wave. "John..." she managed to whisper. Her voice a breathless gasp.

He kept moving until at last he moaned loudly. Tensed. Swore. Shuddered his release in a long spasm of relief inside her. "Moira..." he growled. Fell on her. Finally freed her wrists to relax his arms on either side of her. Breathing deeply as exhaustion hit him. Finally sated, able to ease himself out of her. "Fuck," he whispered. Orgasms rushing, rushing.

She melted under him. Legs still flung wide. Knees bent but now straightening slowly. She ran her hands up his back. Breathless. Speechless. Alarmed by his hungering passion. The threat of violence so close but never realized. She swallowed. Astonished at her own insatiable desire for him. The wild sexual demands for copulation. Wondered at it.

John moved. Pushed himself up to almost distractedly kiss her. "I was right."

"Huh?" she asked.

"I was right," he repeated. "You. You are a fantastic fuck, Moira."

"John?" she asked, but he smiled, satisfied. Appeased. He sat, moved off the bed to gather his clothes. To dress. Moira sat, scrambled to grab the blankets to cover herself. Puzzled by his uncharacteristic behavior she stared. "John?"

He glanced at her. Fixing his clothes. "Fantastic, baby," he repeated. "Almost the tightest but certainly the sweetest I 've ever been in, and I've been in plenty, believe me. But yours...yours is my absolute favorite."

She stared, clutching the blankets to her. "John?"

He buckled his belt. "Don't you worry, baby. That sweet ass of yours is my little secret. As are those fucking beautiful tits. Gotta go. See ya." He swaggered out of the room.

Leaving Moira to stare, open-mouthed.


End file.
